


Light Fingers

by theoddling



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Major Character Injury, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Rating for later chapters, Reader-Insert, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, reader is one of the other 36 super-babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoddling/pseuds/theoddling
Summary: Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Reader, hinted at Eudora Patch/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 140





	1. Cat and Mouse

Twenty minutes. Maybe more, if the neighbors were particularly unobservant, but twenty minutes was a sure thing.

Gently, you tested the doorknob, shocked and almost a little insulted when the latch clicked and the door swung silently inward under your guidance. What kind of smug prick leaves home and doesn’t lock the front door behind him; sure, the neighborhood was nice, but it wasn’t that idyllic. Still, gift horses and all that. You shrugged and proceeded in, closing the door again behind you, no need to draw attention, and ghosting up the stairs to the third floor.

Keeping your light low, you looked around for something that matched the description of the painting that would be hiding your target.

“The painting contains three apples and a lemon,” your informant had said.

Unfortunately, nothing in the veritable gallery of this home office was one of those weird fruit still-lifes. Scanning all of the images for some fruit, especially with the variety of art styles on the walls, would take time. You cursed under your breath as you set to work systematically.

It wasn’t like you could hold it against your informant that much. She was a disgruntled and bitter but still scared and reliant employee telling you where to find maybe not all but certainly the most fungible of her shitty boss’s assets. You could permit her a little crypticness, so long as it didn’t blow up in your face in the end. Which, since this bloody fortune was made in arms deals, there was always the possibility of, literally.

Three apples and a lemon, three apples and a lemon, three apples and a…

“Gotcha,” you murmured, the first real sound you had made since entering the house.

The tall painting took up most of the corner where it hung, and the fruit was not particularly prominent, but there they sat, in a bowl on the table of the young couple featured in the image. That was good enough for you. The frame lifted easily off the wall, and behind it, set in was a small steel door with three combination dials in the center. It was cute that he thought that would protect him from you.

Within minutes, the last of the tumblers thunked into place and the door popped open.

“Hello my lovely,” you purred, plucking out a padded box, opening up and gazing briefly at the way the finely cut gem glittered beneath your fingers. “I have a new home for you.”

You snapped the box shut, reveling at the way it echoed through the empty house. It was reckless, but you had earned a little bit of that. There was no one close enough to hear and if there was a security system, all it would pick up was a blip of sound, a glitch. Tucking the gem, and several other treasures from the safe into your bag, you put everything back to the way it was with expert precision.

Nineteen and a half minutes. You should be smart and get out, you knew, but there was no sign of concern, interest, pursuit. And this was the sort of man you wanted to take more from than money. You bit your lip, hesitating. And then you made your way to his desk, which was scattered with files and papers, a treasure trove of corporate secrets and proprietary scandals.

Suddenly, the file you were reading was knocked from your hand and you jumped, startled by the heavy sound of something metal striking wood. Looking down, you saw the glint of a knife sticking out of the desk not more than an inch from your hand. You had been so engrossed in the numbers and figures, math and profits painted in blood, that you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer alone.

“Shit!” you shouted, recoiling.

Leaning in the doorway, another knife in hand, was a man dressed all in black, leather mostly, his eyes covered in a domino mask that really didn’t do much to hide his face. It might stop you from picking him out of a crowd, but if you were to try, you could probably figure out his identity. In fact, as you stared at him in the dim light, you were sure that he looked familiar, a fact you filed away for later, if he didn’t kill you.

“You know, solid black isn’t actually that great for creeping around in shadows,” you said, fighting back control of your voice. “And if you’re looking for Mr. Sullivan, I’m not him.”

“Good thing I’m not looking for him then,” he answered with a smirk. “But it does beg the question: what are you doing in his office?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m his secretary and he asked me to stop by and pick up a file?”

“In the middle of the night, in the dark, dressed like that?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get that one to work. Listen, whatever you came here for, I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine. We can both walk out of here with no one the wiser.”

“I came here to stop you. Heard about a lurker on the radio and got here faster than the cops. But a lurker looks to me more like a thief.” His head tilted to one side.

“No point in denying it then. I was hired by one of his competitors to try and steal some blueprints for some new grenade design,” you lied, hoping he didn’t know enough about the man to know whether that could be true. “But I don’t see it here, and frankly the payday isn’t worth getting almost stabbed. So how about I just…go and we forget this ever happened, yeah?”

You kept your hands in the air where he could see them and slowly circled the desk, away from the man blocking the doorway, closer step by careful step to the window. You studied it out of the corner of your eye. Heavy, leaded glass. That was going to hurt, but you’d been through worse.

“I’m not going to let you just walk away after you broke in here.”

“Technically all I did was enter, there was no breaking. Asshole left the front door open. Practically an invitation.” You gestured as if to say you were helpless against the temptation.

“Oh in that case…” you couldn’t tell from the distance, but the tone of his voice made you fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll be nice and not pin you there,” he gestured again with the knife, pointing at the wall behind you. “But I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Oh I dunno…strong handsome guy like you, I might like you _pinning_ me,” you smirked. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on it. Places to be and all that jazz.”

You had managed to position yourself directly in front of the window now, the light of the full moon shining around you like a very misplaced halo. He was watching your every move closely, tensed like he expected an ambush. Instead, you blew him a kiss.

And then you turned and leapt, smashing through the window in a rain of shards which glittered magically in the moon. By the time he reacted, crossing the room in a flash to stare out into the night below, you were rolling to your feet and running, adrenaline letting you ignore the distance you had fallen and a miracle letting you escape without blood.

~

You encountered the mysterious man with the knives seven more times over the course of that year. It had become almost a welcome tradition, a warning that someone was onto you, with plenty of time to get out before the actual police showed up. No matter how many times he threatened it, he never hurt you, and he never quite managed to stop you (part of you wondered if this was intentional, as you had worked out early on that this was one of the members of The Umbrella Academy which you had grown up hearing so much about).

“Diamonds again?” he asked, leaning casually against another display case as you placed the glass back over where the necklace now in your hands had been.

“What can I say, I like shiny things?” you offered with a shrug, holding up the jewels before dropping them into the bag at your hip. “And in my defense, I checked the provenance. These were stolen long before they ended up in my hands.”

“So that makes it alright to rob a museum in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, basically. Doesn’t it?”

“No.” His voice was flat but his face beneath that stupid domino mask was incredulous that you would even try such an excuse.

“What if I add in that the necklace contains blood diamonds and ethically, no one should have them?”

“But you have them.”

“Only until I can sell them. And then I’ll put the money to way better use…I’m thinking Thai food, first at least. Wanna come?”

“What?”

“I’ll fly a signal or whatever it is that summons you and we’ll get dinner. You can leave your mask on if you like.”

“I’m not getting dinner with you.”

“Breakfast then?”

He pointed at you, with the hilt of the knife, as he had started doing more often. “You’re just trying to confuse me so you can escape again. That’s not going to happen this time.”

“Isn’t it?” you cocked your head to one side. “I don’t think the saying goes ‘eighth time’s the charm.’”

“Even if you escape, you’re not in someone’s house or office this time. A museum will have a security system. You’ll get tracked down for this one.” He sounded almost sad as he said it, like he regretted that your game of cat and mouse was coming to an end.

You took a step closer to him. He tensed. A certain amount of distance between you had always been one of the unspoken rules. Another step. You watched him swallow nervously and found it hilarious, since he could definitely best you in a fair fight. Third step. His eyes flickered to the sides as if looking for an escape route. Maybe he knew if you ever decided to have a go at him you wouldn’t let it be a fair fight.

By the time you stopped moving, you were inches from him and he practically vibrated with tension.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, watching his eyes flicker down to your lips. “I’d say you wanted me to get away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped half-heartedly, licking his lips nervously. “You’re a criminal.”

“Then now’s your chance. Stop me.” You leaned closer, the motion with the double meaning of your words making your intention clear.

The knife he was holding clattered to the ground as his hand shot out to grab you by the wrist. But the gesture wasn’t used to restrain. No, he used it to tug you closer, making you stumble into his chest as your lips crashed together. And then, the kiss became a war. You were both all teeth nipping lips and tongues battling each other. One hand gripped bruisingly onto your hip, fingers digging into flesh and holding you against him. The other released your wrist and tangled into your hair, knocking aside the cap you used to keep it contained. For your part you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer. The other clawed his shoulder, clinging to him to keep yourself upright.

Your head was hazy and overwhelmed with the taste and feel of him, with the wanting more of it. But, there was a tiny part of your mind that was still paying attention. Your hand danced, trailing touches easily disguised as passion, freeing the knives from his harness, collecting them quietly in nimble fingers. He released your hip, slid his hand down over the curve of your ass, making you gasp. You set the knives as quietly as you could on the top of the display case, just out of convenient reach or obvious notice. His hand hooked onto your thigh, an inviting gesture. Instead you pulled away.

“This…” you murmured, lips still just barely brushing against his, “…was a bad idea.”

He released you; you stepped back.

“It doesn’t change things,” he said. “I’m still not letting you get away again.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, soft. You knew the steps of your dance. “But I’m still going to try.”

You turned. Diego watched as you ran, sprinting over marble-tiled floors. He reached back to grab a knife, not sure what he was going to do to keep from hurting you badly, but needing to do something. He frowned, the sheath was empty. Your steps drew you further away, he moved to follow, reaching further, only to find that every sheath was empty.

He swore, shouting the curse after you, and you couldn’t help the laugh that echoed back to him.

~

Laying on his bed in the boiler room that night, Diego couldn’t stop thinking about her: the feeling of her hair beneath his fingers, the taste of her lips on his, her soft warmth pressed against him. But more than that, it was her smile, her laugh, the light-hearted way she had teased him from the very beginning, utterly shameless and unafraid.

Something tickled at the back of his mind that there was more to her than just a good thief, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And every time he tried, instead he was assaulted with the memory of the way her flesh gave way to his touch and her hot breath tickled his face. He wanted to solve the mystery of her, but more than that, he just wanted her.

He got up with a sigh, knowing he’d be unable to sleep in this state. He loosely wrapped his hands before taking out his pent-up emotion on the punching bag hanging in one corner. As he worked, his mind seemed to clear, and a new thought occurred to him. The next time they encountered each other, and he was certain there would be a next time, at the very least he would get her name. A name to put to the face, and the other things, would be enough.


	2. We Keep Meeting

You were wiping down tables during a slow period, several days later, still thinking about the museum kiss, when the bell above the door jingled and your breath caught in your throat. Walking in, looking casual as could be despite still basically being dressed in the same outfit he wore in all of your late night encounters including the harness of knives, was the vigilante. As he sat at the counter, you glanced around and realized with a nervous pang, that you were the only one on shift.

“Hi, welcome to the Ace,” you said, plastering on a smile and a slightly higher than normal voice, hoping he wouldn’t recognize you. You handed him a laminated paper menu and moved away quickly to get him silverware and a placemat.

“Do I know you?” he asked when you returned a few minutes later to take his order.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I doubt I’d forget a face like yours.” You smiled even as you mentally scolded yourself for flirting. That was the exact opposite of a good way to get him to stop paying attention.

Still, you found yourself gravitating back to him, chatting and keeping him company throughout his meal, laughing at his jokes. For his part, he seemed to welcome the attention, laying on the charm and flirtation thick.

When you brought him his check, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering longer than necessary but not so long as to be uncomfortable, and you felt the heat of a blush creep across your cheeks.

“I’m Diego, by the way,” he said with that damnable charming smirk.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Oh I’m sure,” you smiled mysteriously.

He raised an eyebrow but you said nothing more, waving your fingers at him as he walked out.

~

Three nights later, you were working on your latest score, but you mind kept playing through your interactions with Diego Hargreeves. His little visit to the diner had finally chased the kiss away from the forefront of your mind. But not the rest of him. Not the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or his tongue pinched between his teeth in his rare, genuine smile, not unlike the ‘blep’ of a cat. And if anything it had only made the racing of your heart and the singing in your veins worse at how easy you had fallen into conversation, about anything and everything, how comfortable you felt around him.

You jammed the long metal shim into the window, anger overtaking you and interfering with the usual delicacy that you used when approaching a lock, practically brute-forcing it open instead.

‘Get it together, Y/N,’ you scolded yourself as the lock popped and you eased the pane open. ‘You don’t have time to be distracted by some pretty man-child playing superhero.’

You swung yourself inside, shifting your weight carefully so that you boots barely made a sound as you dropped to the polished tile floor.

An office complex wasn’t your usual target, not soft enough, not enough that was easily fungible, but tonight you were making an exception. The CEO of this particular company had built himself a name on the backs of people far smarter than him including his wife, whom he left for a much younger woman as soon as he’d made his fortune and in the divorce had managed to manipulate the courts in his favor and leave her with nothing, not even the patents and plans to her own creations. She had come to you, hearing about you through a friend of a friend, and begged you to help her get something, anything back. When you heard the story, you decided that such misbehavior could not stand, and had agreed not only to get her back what was rightfully hers, but to take him down. And your quest to do so started right here, in a tragically unsecured file room.

You were flipping through a stack of designs, looking for any of the project numbers she had given you (written along the inside of your gloved wrist so you wouldn’t forget them), when you were startled by a knocking sound. Panicked, you plunged the room into darkness, save for what trickled in the window from the streetlights.

You mind raced. There shouldn’t have been anyone else in the building and you weren’t going after prototypes or payrolls or other things that would be expected to be stolen and therefore be under watch. The only thing that you could think was that it was a trap, and you had fallen for it.

Hoping that whoever it was hadn’t seen you, you pressed yourself into the space between the filing cabinets.

“Relax,” Diego drawled and you felt your shoulders sag with, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, relief at the sound of his familiar voice. “I thought it might be you.”

“Is that why you didn’t bother with the knife this time? I finally rate a warning before you try to stab me?”

“If I’d wanted to stab you any of those times, I would have. I don’t miss.”

“Yes, I remember the claims. I read all the magazine articles growing up.” You smirked, stepping back out of the alcove to face him, arms folded across your chest and one hand resting on your chin cheekily. “You used to be quite the heartthrob.”

He shrugged.

“I know no one saw me come into the building, so how did you even know I was here?”

“Silent alarm. Tripped when the window opened. Guess your partner missed one.”

“What partner?” you frowned. You worked alone, and if someone was out there giving the impression otherwise, you needed to nip it in the bud, for your professional mystique if nothing else.

“No one’s ever caught you on a security camera. Not even the museum, which has a state of the art system,” he stated accusingly. “You must have a partner tampering with the tapes.”

“Next you’ll be telling me that it’s hard to beat a laser grid.”

“It is. It should be. For any _normal_ person.”

“Nonsense, my stabby friend,” you shrugged nonchalantly, inspecting your nails while you talked. “It’s all just smoke and _mirrors_. But hey, if there was an alarm, your cop friends will be come sooner than usual. So, catch me later?”

“What?”

He hadn’t even finished the word before turned and darted back across the room and through the window with a laugh like the jingling of coins, dropping away into the darkness like a ghost. He followed, close enough behind that for the moment before you hit the ground, you could see the light cast artful shadows over his face, sharpening his handsome angles and making your heart skip a beat.

After a moment’s hesitation, Diego climbed over the window sill. He wasn’t going to let you get away again, not without answers. Luckily, you had left behind the rope you’d used to scale the side of the building, the navy blue nylon swaying slightly still from your rapid repel back to the street. He twisted it into his fists, slowly easing himself down, pausing at window ledges to keep his balance, hating how much lead he was giving you. Still, he reasoned, once he was on his feet again, he was agile and could make up the ground.

~

It was nearing dawn when Diego finally gave up hope of tracking you down, slamming his fist into the wall of the alley he stood in with a growl of frustration.

‘If you’d just look up, foolish boy,’ you thought, watching him from the fire escape above him, just outside your own kitchen window. ‘You were so close.’

Watching him walk away, you marveled at yourself and the fact that you almost wanted him to catch you. Maybe, if you took the time to explain why you were doing this, why you had been for the better part of your life, he’d understand. After all, he wasn’t exactly making a legal living, and he been as cursed as you. He had grown up, maybe even more than you, too quickly, saddled with powers and responsibility and expectation. If there was anyone in the world who might understand the emptiness in your chest and the drive to fill it with something, anything, that made the burden of your abilities and the circumstances of your birth worth it, it would be him. Maybe he was someone you could trust, lean on. Your heart ached, not realizing until the thought crossed your mind how badly you wanted that, and how much you hoped he wanted it too.

Still, the merry chase you’d led him on had taken up more time than you’d have liked and you had the opening shift, plus a client to meet. No time to dwell as his silhouette faded into the morning mist.


	3. Taking Your Heart

You and Diego settled into a routine. 

You would break in somewhere, get what you came for. He would stop you on the way out, make some attempt to get information out of you, which you would always deflect. You’d slip away. He’d give chase but eventually give up. 

The next morning, he’d be in the diner: two eggs sunny side up, bacon, whole wheat toast, orange juice. Stories about his childhood, or the odd characters at his boxing gym. Chatting about other customers in the diner, your rock-climbing club. Admitting that he’d flunked out of the police academy for a “problem with authority.” Admitting that you’d never had a chance to flunk out of anywhere because you’d been too scared to commit to something in the first place. Trading smiles and pick-up lines that never went anywhere, no matter how much your heart rushed and your face heated when your fingers would brush. 

You never spoke of night activities. He never turned you over to the cops. 

Round and round you danced. 

~

One evening as you were leaving after a double shift, he was waiting for you outside. 

You gasped, startled as he appeared from seemingly nowhere at your elbow, walking casually with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“Jesus!” you cried, pressing a hand to your racing heart dramatically. “Where did you come from?”

“Can we talk?” he asked, not actually looking at you, matching step with you as you started walking toward your apartment.

“Sure, I guess. I mean we do all the time,” you shrugged, shoving your hands into your own pockets to chase off the slight evening chill. 

“Not about this. About…your other job?”

“Oh.”

You felt your heart sink, sure that this was the moment where it all fell apart. You had come to look forward to the back and forth with him, almost as much as you did the thrill of taking or the fruits of your labors. You bit your lip. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sighed. “Not out in the open though. I’m not stupid.”

He finally glanced over at you, scanning your face for any sign of a trick or trap. Finding none, he nodded. “I’ve got…a room…at an old boxing gym. If you’re okay with it, we could talk there. No one will bother us.”

“Okay. Yeah. Lead the way.” If he was willing to trust you, you decided, you would extend him the same courtesy, at least for now.

~

“I still don’t get it. How do you do it?” He was leaning against the stair railing casually.

You stood in the center of the barely converted boiler room, spinning in a slow circle to inspect the whole scene. 

“You live here?” you asked incredulously, not even noticing his question in the wake of your shock.

“It’s enough for what I need,” he shrugged.

You raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask ‘is it though?’

“Gonna answer my question sweetheart?” The tone of his voice rankled you, a little too close to the condescending losers in your life who thought they were better than you because they were bigger or stronger or…maler. 

“You really haven’t figured it out?” you placed your hands on your hips as you looked at him. 

“No. And don’t give me that ‘smoke and mirrors’ shit again.” He had been putting away his various knives and waved one of them at you to punctuate his words. 

“It was a hint,” you rolled your eyes. “But clearly, I’m not speaking to the brains of the family operation.”

“Y/N…” there was a tinge of anger, of warning in his voice.

You sighed, biting your lip, nervous to trust him enough to open up after so long bearing your burdens alone. “You at least worked out that I’m one of the other freak babies that your father couldn’t acquire, right?”

“Yeah. Well I mean, I figured as much, but I wasn’t sure. You not getting caught means I didn’t exactly have any records to check.”

“Silver linings keep coming.” You smiled wryly. “I escape because of—and actually owe quite a bit of my skillset to if I’m being honest—my power.”

“Which is…?”

You held up a hand, watching with a relaxed expression, calmer than he’d ever seen…anyone really, as the light began to coalesce around you. He knew he was meant to be watching your demonstration, but instead he found himself mesmerized by the way the gathering energy flickered across your face, bringing a warmth to you that he didn’t usually see in dim nights or under sputtering fluorescents. He moved closer to you, mouth slightly agape as he stared and you rolled the light over your palm coaxing it to play through your fingers. 

“You can glow?” he asked softly, and you flushed, picking up the note of awe underneath his incredulity. “I don’t get how that helps. Shouldn’t that make it harder?”

“If glowing was all I could do, maybe. Although it would still mean I don’t have to worry about a flashlight or night vision goggles. Less gear to worry about lets me be lighter on my feet, sneakier.” 

You smirked. He quirked an eyebrow at you. 

“I can manipulate light. Glowing is the easy part because there’s always a little bit of light, even when it’s not visible, that I can pull in and then it’s easy to change the frequency. But a little change to how it _reflects_ equals functional invisibility. To a camera anyway. Or anything without an intelligence. Hence smoke and _mirrors._ ”

“So it could make you invisible to Luther?” he offered with a smirk.

You laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly and he chuckled in response, now the one glowing, with pride rather than light, at having been the one to draw out the sound, which was more genuine than he had heard from you in the past.

“A living being notices more…stuff, like shadows or flickers of movement or when something just doesn’t seem right. So I’d have to manipulate a lot more at once to be invisible to them. I’ve never actually tried it, but I don’t know if my powers are strong enough for that.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “So you have the power to control light. With that you could do anything, search and rescue or something. But you decided to use it to steal?”

“Hey Mister Judgy McTightpants, it’s…more complicated than that. And not all of us have an edgy hero complex that keeps us from seeing past our own tiny worldview.” You folded your arms over your chest, glaring defensively at him.

He watched the walls slam back up around you, your eyes glazing over into coldness. Guilt and regret gnawed at his gut. 

“No, wait. I didn’t mean…” 

“Yeah, I don’t really care what you meant. _You_ had Daddy Warbucks funding you and training you. _You_ got choose to live in a shitty one room ‘apartment’ and play superhero. Not all of us had that luxury.”

“Luxury? You think I grew up with luxury?” He scoffed.

“Yeah, I do. I’m not saying it was perfect, or that you’re father wasn’t shit, but I am saying…forget it.” You shook your head, annoyed with him, but even more with yourself. “Just forget it. Talking to you at all was a mistake.”

He grabbed your arm lightly as you turned to go, not enough to actually restrain you, just to make you pause. 

“Wait, please?” he said, voice tinged in nervousness. 

“Why, so you can criticize me some more?”

“No. I…you’re…there’s so much about you that I can’t figure out. I’m trying to understand.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be understood.”

“What?”

“Goodnight Diego,” you leaned in to kiss his cheek before thinking better of it, brushing past him, arms folded around yourself as if to fight off a chill. “I’ll…see you around.”

There was an ache in his chest as he watched you go, your hand lingering on the doorknob. He wanted to call out to you again, to ask you to stay, to beg you to tell him everything you kept locked inside yourself. But when he opened his mouth, it was like he was twelve years old again and he couldn’t find a way to make his mouth form the words, to push the sounds out as something distinguishable. He had just gotten his tongue around the shape of your name when the door clicked closed behind you. 

He sighed, flopping onto his little bed in the corner, staring up at the ceiling with one hand tucked behind his head. There was something about you, something about the way you made him feel, that he couldn’t place, but it was unlike anything he was used to. It puzzled him and frustrated him. As he lay there, trying to go to sleep before his nightly patrol, he found the shape of your smile and the halo you had formed around yourself were burned into his brain. 

~

Several weeks went by where you did not see Diego Hargreeves. At first it was a relief, not to have to worry about the vigilante interfering with your work. But then, even as your thefts got bolder and there was no question of what you were doing, he failed to make an appearance and you actually found yourself growing worried.

More than that, you missed him. His stupid smirk as he challenged and teased you, the little self-deprecating laugh when he told a truly terrible joke at the counter, the way his eyes seemed to see deeper than the surface, the fact that he made you feel seen and special for maybe the first time in your life. 

Finally, you decided you had had enough (annoyed with yourself for moping. Over a boy of all things) and went out looking for him. 

Maybe you would have to apologize for your harsh words. Maybe you wanted to. Swallowing your pride and letting the door creak open for him was better than the alternative, this strange void in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention at the onset that this was a slow burn? Cus it definitely is.  
> But I promise, it will end up somewhere soon.


	4. Allegiances

“Oh come on Al,” you begged, following the gym manager across the room. “just tell me where he is.”

You had decided several days ago that you were going to make amends with Diego, but so far he had proven impossible to track down, and worry was beginning to twist in your gut. What if he was avoiding you intentionally? Or worse, what if he wasn’t, and something had happened to him?

“Do I look like Hargreeves’ nanny?” Al snapped in response as he paused to rearrange some equipment, refusing to even look you at you. In his defense, you had been by every day and were making something of a nuisance of yourself, almost in the hope that he would get annoyed enough to force Diego to talk to you so you would go away.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “Fine. Can you just tell him—”

“No.” The old man made a dismissive gesture and walked away, headed for his office.

“Oh don’t be like that,” you whined, following him until he slammed the door in your face.

While you were arguing, you didn’t notice the woman who walked in. She leaned against one corner of the boxing ring at the center of the gym, watching you. When you flipped off the door with a growl and turned away, sagging against the wall nearby, she smiled, walking over.

“Officer Eudora Patch,” she said, offering you a hand. 

You shook it, trying to hide your flinch. “Y/N.”

“I saw you strike out with Al,” she grimaced in sympathy that felt shockingly genuine. “He’s a tough nut. Mind me asking why you’re looking for Diego?”

“He’s…a friend. Just needed to talk to him about something.” You shrugged.

“Seems like it was pretty important?”

“I guess, yeah. I just…we had an argument and some dumb things were said,” you sighed dragging out the words. “And I haven’t heard from him in a while since, so I was…worried.”

“You haven’t heard from him in a while?” she seemed surprised and disappointed by this but quickly covered it up. “How long’s a while?”

“Couple…weeks,” you admitted, deflating, before eyeing her more curiously. “Why are you asking anyway?”

“I’ve been looking for him too.”

“Oh? What’s he to you? No offense officer, but you don’t seem like the ‘get punched for fun’ sort that he seems to spend most of his time with.” You gestured to some of the other members of the gym who were sparing or warming up.

“He and I go back to the police academy actually. We were…close before he left. And I need to talk to him about a case he may have…been a witness to.”

“Oh.” Recognition dawned on you from the stories Diego had told you. “Oh! You’re _that_ Patch!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried what that’s supposed to mean?”

You shrugged. “Diego’s just talked a lot about you, that’s all. Oddly, failed to mention how gorgeous you are.” You smiled winningly.

She looked down and away, blushing. 

“Hey listen,” you said, suddenly getting a terrible, wonderful idea. “Obviously, neither of us is going to find the mysterious disappearing Hargreeves by just standing around here. Let me buy you a coffee and we can help each other look for him?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that sounded like you were asking me out on a date.”

“Would it be a problem if I was?” you quirked an eyebrow at her. 

~

Eudora’s case closed without Diego’s involvement several weeks later, and you were beginning to give up on ever fixing things with him. In the meanwhile, coffee with Eudora had become routine, or dinner, or spending hours watching bad movies and eating popcorn together in one apartment or the other on the rare occasions you both had the same night off. Talking with her felt natural, and while the bond between you began with having both become familiar with putting up with Diego’s particular brand of shit, it was now much deeper (though she, for obvious reasons, still didn’t know about your thievery) and in many ways she slipped into the gap in your life that he had left behind, sealing the jagged edges with soft smiles and open nature. Too often, you found yourself toeing the line, considering if crossing it would be worth the risk of losing one of your few genuine friends. But no, you had done that once, and look where it had ended: a literal disappearing act. 

Of course, as soon as you had found a new normal and gotten comfortable, things went straight to hell. 

It was an average day, meant to be a quick trip to the bank to deposit your paycheck, and then you were going to treat yourself to takeout and a horror movie marathon after a long, grueling week. And then someone came crashing through the door with a shotgun, waving it around and scaring everyone. Two more ‘customers’ pulled weapons out and the three started directing hostages. It was only when Shouty Shotgun turned the muzzle of it toward you that you fully realized the situation you were in. 

“Shit,” you muttered, following the order to get down on your knees with your hands behind your head, back to one of the counters.

 _Cat-burglar turned hostage, nicely done,_ you scolded yourself while you started planning your next move. If you focused, with all the commotion around they might not notice you disappear and you could get out. 

_But what about everyone else?_ a voice that sounded strangely like Diego’s asked in the back of your mind. 

As much as you wanted to pretend that you didn’t care, that they weren’t your problem, you knew that probably wasn’t the case, and you tried to take the dozen or so others in the room into account in your plan. Two more gunmen came in, barring the doors behind them, bringing the robbers’ total to five.

 _Too outnumbered to do anything. Give em what they want and we all go home. Maybe I’ll track them down again later._ Just as you thought this, the bank’s security officer lunged at one of them, only to fall back with a cry, and more screaming from the gathered civilians, as he was shot. He clutched at his stomach, and one of the others crawled over to try and help him, only to be warned back with a wave of the offending pistol. 

A woman in a grey pencil skirt and bubble gum pink blouse stood, trembling, and introduced herself as the branch manager, trying to negotiate with them. 

You tried to tune out the distractions so you could think. Scanning the room, you spotted a shadow out of the corner of your eye, moving fast and low. Not far from you, the figure halted. You tried to ignore it. And then, there were lips at your ear and Diego’s voice was no longer just in your head.

“What are you, the decoy?” he hissed. 

You frowned. “What are you talking about?” you snapped softly, not turning your head and doing your best not to move your lips noticeably. 

“The gunmen make a big show and attract all the attention and then you slip into the vault and clear out the cash, make your escape and rendezvous with whoever doesn’t get arrested later. Or you get lucky and keep all of it for yourself. It’s a clever trick, ‘til I showed up.”

“Wait, you think I’m with these assholes?”

“You expect me to believe you’re not?”

You were actually hurt by the accusation, though you fought the feeling down so that it didn’t affect the pitch of your voice. “When have I ever done anything to make you think I’d be part of a bank robbery. I have always hit empty buildings, worked at night. No witnesses, no hostages.”

“Or so you claim.”

“Hey!” you growled. “I don’t hurt people to get what I want. Ever. In fact, of the two of us, you’re the one who’s caused more injuries.”

“So you expect me to believe that you just happened to be in the bank when it got robbed?”

“Frankly Hargreeves, I don’t give a shit what you think. But I do want to get out of here, and get everyone else out safely. And the best way to that right now, is for the two of us to put aside our differences and deal with the situation before anyone else does something dumb.”

He was silent for a minute that felt like it dragged on forever.

“Fine. Do you have a plan?” he asked condescendingly.

“I was working on that, prior to your appearance.”

Suddenly one of the robbers whipped back around in your direction and you froze. Diego somehow managed to duck behind the counter unseen. 

“Who the hell is talking?” the robber shouted. He was greeted with utter silence. 

As soon as he had moved away, Diego reappeared. 

“I’ll take out the gunmen, you get the hostages clear,” he suggested.

“Sure, and then I’ll give you a nice eulogy. There are _five_ of them and only one of you. And bullets move faster than knives,” you hissed. 

He smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that sounded like you were worried about me.”

You scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m just not interested in the hostages becoming collateral damage when you epically fail.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow.

“And…I guess…if not wanting you to die means that I care…maybe I do a little bit,” you admitted reluctantly, almost petulantly. 

“Mama, what’s happening?” a child’s voice cut through the room, pulling everyone’s attention, including your own, to the boy who looked to be about seven and who you hadn’t noticed in the crowd prior to now.

“Shut up,” the gunman with the shotgun growled.

The boy’s lip trembled. “I want to go home Mama! I’m scared! I don’t like it here.”

“Shut that brat up before I do it for you!”

Your whole body thrummed with tension as you watched the scene unfolding: the pistol being waved at the little child, the mother trying to hush and calm him, his face screwing up with fear and overwhelming emotion that he was much too young to understand or contain. You were vaguely aware that Diego was talking again, but you couldn’t hear the words past the ringing in your ears.

“Shit,” you muttered, biting your thumb nail nervously as your eyes flickered back and forth from the child to the gunman, to the rest of the robbers and the woman who was still trying to negotiate with them, to the security guard still bleeding out quickly. “This is bad. This is really, really bad…” 

Like a bolt of lightning, an idea came to you.

“Diego,” you murmured. “Cover your eyes and be ready to move quickly. Get as many people out as you can.”

“What?”

Time seemed to slow down as you rolled to your feet and moved, placing yourself in front of the child. If you let yourself think, you wouldn’t do it. All you had was the hope that your plan would work, that Diego would trust you enough to do as you said. The criminal cried out in surprise as you jumped in front of him, calling the attention of his cohorts. Well at least that was convenient. You closed your eyes. 

At the same moment that you released a pulse of energy, you heard a bang and the faint hum of sirens. You opened your eyes. The room had been plunged into darkness by your actions, draining it out of everywhere possible, but slowly the fluorescents flickered back on. 

All five gunmen were flailing, rubbing at their eyes and muttering to themselves. Most of the hostages were out of the line of sight, and Diego was nowhere to be seen. There were still several who were in the risk of harm’s way though: the security guard, the manager, the child and his mother who were sitting, stunned behind you, and a few scattered others, mostly on the other side of the room from where you had been moments before. 

You trembled with exhaustion, biting the inside of your cheek, the sharp pain keeping you focused. 

A gloved hand appeared behind a panel of plexi-glass, waving at you and pointing toward the door. Hazily, you registered that it was most likely Diego and he was probably trying to tell you that he could get the hostages outside. 

Cautiously, you began drawing light inward again, gearing up for a second burst. One of the gunmen turned back to you, weapon raised and you let go of all the power that had been building. 

Your head swam and your blood pounded in your ears, the rush creating a strange echo like listening to the ocean through ears stuffed with cotton. A heat crept up the sides of your neck and you felt the beads of sweat break out across your brow. But when you finally registered the world on a mostly untilted axis again, it was over. The gunmen had been subdued and there were no hostages still inside.

“You okay there?” Diego asked, concern roughening his voice as he approached you.

“Shit,” you swore, swaying slightly. “Remind me never to do that again. Is everyone…okay?”

“Ambulances and police are outside, they’ve got things under control, and you’re the last one out.”

“Oh good. Wanna show me your back door in so I can leave without anyone knowing I was ever here?”

“Why wouldn’t you want…?”

“Because I don’t like the attention. You had the Academy sheltering you, but I don’t think superpowers are actually as welcomed or exciting as they might seem. Pretty sure the words that’ll get thrown around are ‘dangerous’ and ‘threat.’”

“You saved people’s lives.”

Your brow pinched in a frown. You felt like shit and you didn’t want to argue with him right now. 

“Diego, please.”

The world tilted sharply again, and you started to realize that it was more than just from the overexertion of your powers. Now that the crisis was averted and the adrenaline was wearing off, fast, you registered a sharp pain in your left leg and an uncomfortable, damp warmth creeping down it. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy.

For the second time in a very short period, things looked very bad indeed. You couldn’t remember being shot, had no idea when it might have happened, but that was the most

logical explanation. Not that knowing helped, really. You might have been able to manage, get to somewhere safe and secure (or to the emergency services vehicles waiting outside for the hostages at least) if you hadn’t just expended a huge burst of energy using your powers. Instead, you would be lucky if you could get to somewhere where you wouldn’t bust your skull open on impact with the ground.

“You don’t look so good, Y/N….” Diego said and you jumped, having momentarily forgotten he was there. 

“I’ll be fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “I just really need to get out of here, okay.”

Reluctantly he nodded, gesturing in the direction of the safe deposit room. “I came in through a window that way. It took a little maneuvering, but you’re good at that sort of thing.”

You smirked softly. “Might need a little assistance, just this once. Being the hero is _exhausting._ ”

He chuckled but didn’t move, clearly waiting for you. You sighed. Damn him and his concern. 

Trying to keep the majority of your weight off your left leg, you took a tentative step. Suddenly your vision narrowed to a single point and the sound of your blood rushing in your ears became a roar. Your knee buckled beneath you. 

You thought you felt hands, someone catching you, but you weren’t sure you weren’t imagining them. 

And then it didn’t matter and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama! Cliffhangers!


	5. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing actually about injuries so...sorry
> 
> Also, language warning for this chapter.

The first thing you were aware of was the high, tinny ringing. It was quite possibly the most annoying noise you had ever heard, and you were pretty sure it was coming from inside your own head so you couldn’t cover your ears and make it go away. Your eyelids felt heavy, like there was something keeping them from opening, and your mouth felt cottony. Your stomach roiled with nausea. The more of your body returned to your awareness the worse you felt.

“Ugh,” you groaned, voice cracking from disuse. As you forced your eyes to open, thankful that your power even in its most dormant form kept the light from burning them, you registered the meeting of concrete and grey-brown bricks wavering in your vision.

You tried to push yourself to a seated position and immediately felt resistance.

“Woah, hey, you shouldn’t move so fast,” Diego said, pressing lightly on your shoulder to hold you in place.

“Am I in your weird boiler room house?” you slurred. “How did I get here?”

You heard him chuckle. “Well after you passed out, I figured you could use some looking after…and then when you weren’t waking up…I was getting ready to take you to a hospital.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that sounded like you were worried about me,” you smirked, throwing back his own words at him.

“I was,” he said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Of course I was.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, and not just because your head was still fuzzy and ringing (the feeling was fading some the longer you were awake). 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like death slightly warmed over.”

He grimaced. 

“Seriously, two questions: how long was I out for, and why does my leg still feel like it’s on fire?”

“It’s been a few hours. That’s why I was…”

“Worried?” you supplied as he floundered. 

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. As for your leg, you did get shot. It was pretty bad. I stopped the bleeding but the bullet is…still in there.”

“What?!” you jolted up at that, ignoring the pain and spinning sensation, staring at Diego in shock.

“I didn’t want to do anything while you were unconscious! In case you’d prefer an actual doctor do it or something went…wrong…” you registered the tinge of fear in his voice and felt a little less mad at him for leaving a hunk of metal embedded in your calf muscle.

“Well…I’m awake now so if you think you can get it out safely…I trust you to,” you admitted softly, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his where it sat on your bedside. 

It was then you registered that not only were you lying in his bed, but he was kneeling awkwardly beside it, and probably had been since before you woke up. Your heart fluttered at the thought that he had been watching over you, taking care of you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Definitely.” You shot him a grin that you hoped looked convincing and not as crazed as you felt in that moment. 

He nodded, rising from his crouch and wincing in a way that, once again, suggested he had been in the position for a while, moving about the fairly small room gathering the first aid supplies he’d need. Your eyes traced him as he washed everything down with rubbing alcohol and soap and water, as he pulled on a pair of cheap rubber gloves, and returned to your side. 

“You’re going to have to turn for me to get to the wound,” he said, gesturing. “And so I can put down a towel so you don’t bleed everywhere.”

You rolled your eyes, complying with his direction. 

“I notice you don’t have any lidocaine or anything there in your little bullet treatment kit…” you observed, biting your lip nervously.

“No, sorry. I could go out and get some, but it’s late so I don’t know what’s open and the sooner we get the bullet out the better.”

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice rising an octave, betraying your fear. 

He knelt back down, carefully unwinding the bandage. You couldn’t help but stare down at the inflamed skin, the horribly red, still sluggishly bleeding opening in your leg, stomach turning at the thought that it was an actual hole through skin and muscle, and you were lucky not bone and not anywhere more severe than your lower leg. Diego, noticing your expression, reached over to give your hand a quick squeeze before turning to the work. 

You hissed, doing everything in your power not to flinch away as Diego rested his hands on your calf. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he murmured, and you frowned, catching the slight stutter in his voice, something which you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s okay. It’s…are you sure you can do this?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve dug bullets out of myself before so…”

“Okay, gonna revisit _that_ later, but for now, I trust you. I still wish we had something to numb the pain first though…”

After that, things became a bit of a blur. You were pretty sure at some point you screamed. It felt like your leg was being rent open by the fiery claws of the devil. You must have passed out again, because the next thing you remembered was someone lightly tapping on your cheek and opening your eyes to see Diego’s face, eyes wide in panic and lip quivering, swimming into focus. 

“Fuck me with a cactus, it would have been gentler,” you muttered, wincing. “At least tell me it’s over?”

He smiled, chuckling at your colorful phrasing. “Yeah, bullet’s out, pretty cleanly and I redressed the wound. Now you just need to rest and recover and keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Well, thank you then, Doctor Hargreeves. I guess I owe you one, and should get out of your hair.” You shifted like you were going to try to get to your feet and he immediately reached out to stop you.

“You’re not…bothering me. And I’d rather know you were okay. Besides, there’s no way you can walk on that yet. Just…get some sleep.”

“You look almost as exhausted as I feel, and there’s not exactly another bed around…” you pointed out, watching him blush and look away with a slight flush of your own.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s fine.”

“Diego…” you started to protest, but were cut off by a rapid knocking sound.

“Diego, you can’t keep avoiding me,” Patch called, from the other side of the boiler room door. “I know you were at the bank robbery so I need a statement, before someone else issues a warrant.”

“Really?” you groaned. “Terrible timing, Officer.”

“Relax, Eudora is…was…she’s fine. You’ll be fine,” Diego mumbled half-heartedly, moving to open the door and let her in.

You glared at his back as he did so, annoyed that he had managed to avoid the conversation entirely, and once again you two had danced, just out of each other’s reach. You shifted hastily and tugged at the quilt at the end of the bed to try and hide your injury without causing too much pain. Still, you whimpered softly, catching both their attention as she entered the little room.

“Y/N?! What the hell happened?” she said, rushing over to you.

“Heeey, Dora. Oh this?” you gestured down to your leg and the small spot of red seeping through the gauze. “Bank robbers. No respect,” you said with a forced chuckle and a shake of your head. You felt your head swim a little at the movement and began to regret expending the energy so quickly after the secondary trauma of Diego’s impromptu surgery. “Luckily it was just a little bullet and Diego here doesn’t make a bad triage nurse.”

“Wait you two know each other?” he asked, his tone maybe as much frightened as confused. 

“While you were off the grid, we hung out. Dora’s great,” you said, flashing her a wink over his shoulder and giggling at his stunned expression, feeling strangely giddy.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “I think you need a hospital, not a little first aid from this idiot.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Why do you say that?” 

“You just ‘winked’ with both eyes. And you look a little green around the gills.”

“Still knew I was winking though,” you smirked before frowning in puzzlement. “But I don’t have gills…” 

You didn’t catch her response, or Diego’s as the darkness rushed back in to claim you and you slumped back into his bed. 

~

Patch was headed for the payphone in the hall, probably to call an ambulance, while Diego hesitated, torn between stopping her and making sure Y/N was alright. 

“Eudora, don’t,” he finally managed to get out. “She won’t appreciate it.”

“She won’t appreciate anything if she dies of blood loss,” Patch shot back, glaring at him. “Besides it’s just a hospital, what’s the problem?”

He sighed. None of this was his to tell. Y/N might never forgive him. But still, he had to try and make Eudora understand. He gestured for her to come sit beside him. 

“Look. It’s not a serious wound. I’m pretty sure her exhaustion and slipping in and out of consciousness is from stress. I don’t think she’s ever…done something like that before.”

“Like what, Diego? Been in a bank robbery?”

“No,” he shook his head and his voice was soft as he continued, “stopped one.”

“I don’t understand.” Patch was frowning, that confused little furrow forming between her brows which Diego (and you) secretly found cute. 

“You remember how I told you about my siblings and me?”

“Yeah your Umbrella School or whatever…”

“Academy.” He frowned at how quickly the correction, almost a defense, jumped out.

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, there were more kids that my father couldn’t get.”

“Are you saying Y/N has superpowers like you do?”

“Not just like mine but…yeah. She can control light or something. She had a more scientific explanation.” He shrugged.

“So the flares that stunned the robbers, and several hostages…?” There was something like awe on Patch’s face. 

“Were her. When they turned a gun on that kid…she just reacted.”

“Shit.” Patch rocked back on her heels, pinching the bridge of her nose the way she always did when she was stressed, and Diego knew at least part of her was trying to figure out how that was going to screw with the reports, or if she was just going to conveniently leave it out. “But what does this have to do with taking her to the hospital?”

“She’s not…trusting doctors and hospitals is hard when you’ve got a big secret like this, especially when it contributes to the problem you need treated. Plus she’s stubborn; she won’t like being forced to accept help.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t like this at all. But if you’re sure…?”

He met her eye sincerely. “I am.”

She watched as Diego returned to his ministrations, checking your pulse and adjusting the bandages, which you had managed to rumple in your shifting about, such that the long gauze strips no longer fully covered the wound. 

“You’re pretty good at that,” Patch mused. “And it’s obvious that you care a lot about Y/N.”

“You’re one to talk. You never let _me_ call you ‘Dora.’”

She blushed, looking away. “It’s not like that. Not… really. Nothing like what’s between you and her.”

“There’s nothing…we’re n-not…” Diego suddenly found himself unable to look at either woman. 

He had been in love with Eudora, once, and still felt strongly for her, even if the romantic connection between them had been severed and probably wouldn’t ever come back together. But there was something about Y/N that just felt right. She made him feel seen and understood and like he didn’t need to still be ‘Number Two of The Umbrella Academy,’ he could just be Diego. She made him smile, more freely than he could remember doing in years. He’d missed her terribly while he was away, while they weren’t speaking to one another, like there had been a piece of him missing. When he’d seen her collapse, he had felt like his heart stopped. But she also scared him. They were so different, so incompatible on paper. And he thought that having her just to lose her might actually kill him, so maybe it was better not to go there at all. 

“Relax, Diego,” Patch said with a slight laugh, pulling his attention back to the room and her. “It wasn’t an accusation. I’m happy for you. And I like Y/N. She’ll keep you on your toes.” 

He opened his mouth to deny once again that there was anything going on between the two of you, to assure her, but she shook her head and rolled her eyes affectionately. Still he blundered onward, changing tactics slightly but still determined to deny what he knew was real, what Patch could see with her own two eyes. 

“She probably doesn’t even—“

Patch held up a hand to cut him off again. “Don’t give me that. Don’t use the excuse of not knowing what you could easily find out.”

“It’s not that simple, Eudora,” he sighed. 

“Nothing about love ever is.” She stood up, brushing non-existent dirt off her pant legs. “I need to get back to work, but I hope you give what I said some thought at least. For both of your sakes.”

‘Love.’ The word echoed through Diego’s mind, but not in a way that felt intimidating or worrying. It felt more like suddenly having a name for the feeling he knew was there, like hearing someone else say it made it real. But that didn’t mean he wanted to say it out loud. Or did he?

~

The world swam slowly into existence for a third time, and you groaned, sick of the feeling as much as you were suffering any ill effects. Cautiously, you propped yourself up on your elbows, and the movement caught Diego’s attention. Almost immediately, he was up out of the chair he’d been sitting in and crouched by your side.

“How long was I out for?” you asked, hesitantly, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his closeness and how quickly he’d jumped to your side. 

“Do you mean since Patch made you swoon or in general?” he teased, smiling.

You rolled your eyes. “She did not make me swoon. Although if anyone’s swoon-worthy…but no, I mean how long have I been in the Bat Cave, total?”

“You’ve been in and out for…two days or so.”

“ _Two_ …shit!” you bolted upright, trying to get to your feet despite Diego fighting you on it. “I need to go, and hope I haven’t been fired yet.”

“You need to rest! And why does it matter to you so much if you lose your job?”

“What do you mean why does it matter? I need that job. You know for rent, and food, and generally being able to survive.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s a reoccurring thing for you it seems. What exactly has you confused this time Hargreeves?”

“You’re a thief. You’ve stolen plenty. Why does a dead end job matter to you?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve tried to figure it out: why you work at the diner, why you’re always wearing the same faded sweatshirt and jeans when you’re not working. You’ve got all that money…”

“Is my sense of fashion actually being judged by a man who wears leather like it’s a uniform and not just an uncomfortable invitation to awkward sweat?”

“It is a uniform. And you’re avoiding the question.”

You rolled your eyes. “Self-imposed means it’s not a uniform. Just a…fashion?...choice.” You cocked your head to one side and intentionally exaggerated the question in your tone, making it clear to him what you thought of his pick of attire. He certainly wasn’t wearing it for comfort.

“You’re really going to insult me after I saved your life?”

“You really think I steal for myself?” 

“Who else would you be stealing for?”

“Saving lives isn’t always just stabbing and punching bad guys.” Your eyes flickered away from his face, fixing on some invisible point over his shoulder. 

“What?”

You shrugged. “I support myself with a day job and then at night, I take from rich assholes who really don’t need it, or deserve to hurt, and I give it to people that need.” 

He fell silent, frowning and avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” he said eventually, pointedly ignoring your revelation. “Patch called in sick for you.”

“A police officer calling me in sick? Great now they’re definitely going to think I’m a criminal and fire me.”

“You are a criminal.”

You glared at him, wishing you had something to throw, especially when your reaction made him chuckle.

“She told them you were a witness and were in protective custody. You should be good for a week.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“It was…her idea…” for some reason he wouldn’t meet your eyes again, and you were pretty sure he was lying to you.

“I don’t just mean the work thing,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. “You didn’t have to help me out. You could have left me in the bank, or dumped me on the EMTs.”

He shifted, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the mattress and twisting to face you, instead of kneeling beside you. Hesitantly, he reached out catching an errant strand of your hair between his fingers and twirling it distractingly. Only a stubbornness warring with yourself (and maybe a fear that if you moved too quickly you would pass out again) kept you from launching yourself forward to press your lips to his. You hated how his proximity and the subtle scent of him made your heart race, how he made you feel weak and dizzy in a way that was entirely separate from the blood loss. 

As you sat there, not quite locking eyes, each watching each other, it dawned on you that you might actually love him. Strangely, it sent a sensation of calm flooding over you. It just made sense, so there was no point in fighting it, just deciding what to do with it.

“I saw your eyes when you were talking about what you thought they might do if someone found out you had powers,” he explained finally, reluctantly letting his hand drop back to his side. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were that scared.”

“Oh.” The word felt small and inadequate. 

You reached out hesitantly, to rest your hand on his where it sat between you. He turned his up so that your palms were touching and laced his fingers through yours. You both sat there staring at your joined hands, each trying to figure out what it meant to yourselves and to each other. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in the heavy, waiting silence. Finally Diego cleared his throat and pulled away, standing up.

“Are you hungry? I’m going to go out and get you some food, so you can get your strength back up,” he said awkwardly. “You should get some more rest.”

“Right, sure,” you frowned, biting back the questions dancing on your tongue. “Thanks…”

~

The next few days passed much the same way, with you trying to rest and recover, and Diego doing what he could to help you, including helping you change your bandages and giving you a literal hand when you started testing your weight on it finally. The thread of tension running between you was pulled taut and you waited for it to snap. Until, finally you couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Diego,” you started as you stood next to him, his forearm in a vice grip as you wobbled on your right foot and haltingly placed your left one on the cold concrete.

“Don’t start thanking me again, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “I keep telling you it’s no big deal.”

“Diligently nursing me back to health from a gunshot wound is no big deal?” you asked with a raised eyebrow and a demanding sharpness to your tone.

“No. It lets me know you’re okay.” He tried to shrug without moving the arm you were using for balance, resulting in a very awkward gesture and you giggled at it. “I’d do the same for anyone I cared so much about.”

You hobbled yourself around to be facing him, face blushing hotly. “You care about me?”

“O-o-of…c-c-c…” he gaped and floundered and the stutter that you had quickly come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness or uncertainty in himself was sharp. 

“Relax, Diego. I care about you to, I just…it’s nice to hear it confirmed that the feeling’s mutual,” you smiled and gave a little shrug.

He stared at you, eyes roving your face as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because the next thing you knew, his free hand was cupping your jaw, thumb trailing across your cheek. And then his lips were on yours and the time for thinking or knowing was past you. 

Your grip tightened further on his arm and the other hand curled around his shoulders, dragging yourself closer as his tongue parted your lips in askance, diving in to tangle with yours when you opened so willingly in answer, a moan escaping you only to be swallowed in his kiss. His arm slipped your grip to wrap around your waist as he felt you buckle, whether under the strain on your leg or the intensity of the kiss was uncertain and irrelevant to you both. Slowly, he backed up toward the threadbare chair in the corner of the room, dropping back into it and pulling you down onto his lap. You tangled your hands into his close-cropped hair, carding and tugging gently at it, making him groan, and his hands ran ticklishly up and down your sides.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, panting for air through your kiss-bruised lips.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, eyebrow raised and staring down at him.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that for six months now,” he murmured in response, gaze adoring as he met your eyes.

“I’ve certainly been waiting for you to. Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Don’t even joke…”

“So what changed? Was it just about admitting that I cared too?”

“Yeah, I guess. Or, actually, I think it was something Eudora said when she was here. Something she made me see…I don’t know…” he shifted uncomfortably as if trying to get away from your vision and his voice had just enough of a hitch that you knew that his stutter would come out soon if you kept pushing. 

So instead, you gently brushed your fingers along his jaw to turn his head back to you. 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to explain…I just…I’m glad we finally got here. Now kiss me again.”

He smirked, arms curling around your back to draw you downward. “If you insist.”

~

A few hours later, you both sat at his little table, picking at your takeout. 

“So, you have to get back to work soon…” he started awkwardly.

“Yep. I mean, it was a nice week hiding out in the Bat Cave, but I knew I’d to get back to reality eventually.”

“What will you do about, you know, the other thing?”

“Why? So you know when to go back to failing to catch me?” you teased, cocking you head at him with a smirk.

“No. I just know you could be using your powers differently, so I thought…maybe after everything you might have changed your mind on it.”

You growled in frustration, dropping the cheap plastic fork you had been using to nose the vegetables around in your lo mein. “Not this again, Diego.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Well I really wish you wouldn’t. You can’t say you care about me and expect me to believe that, no matter how sweet you are, when you turn around and try to change me with every second breath.” You heard your voice crack, and fought back the accompanying tears of anger. You had thought, no hoped, that now that your feelings were out in the open, he would be more accepting.

“I’m not trying to change you! I just saw what you did at the bank—“

“What? Nearly kill myself? I spent _two days_ slipping in and out of consciousness! I’m going to probably be limping for _weeks_. I am _NEVER_ doing that again.”

“You can take direct action to save lives! Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

“Why don’t you ask your brother that?” You instantly regretted the words as they slipped off your tongue. 

Immediately, it was like sheet-metal shutters slammed shut behind his eyes, those warm chocolate eyes that you loved so much now gone and stony. 

“Shit. No, Diego, I…I didn’t mean that…or I kind of did, but I had no right…”

His jaw twitched but he didn’t speak. 

“Fuck. I fucked everything up already. Shit. Please say something? Even if you want to tell me off, which I totally deserve…please?”

“We need to change the bandages on your leg.” His voice was flat. You had heard security alarms with more emotion. 

“Oh. Right.” You sighed, twisting awkwardly to pull yourself out from under the table and give him access to the wound.

“Then I think you should go.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him closely as he rounded the table and carefully unwound the gauze from your leg.

“No,” you said softly. “I don’t think I should.”

He turned his head up to look at you, mouth agape. 

“We keep doing this Diego. Every time there’s something between us, we end up snapping at each other and saying something that hurts the other person and shutting each other out. And I don’t want to do that again. I really like you, and I trust you and I want to be around you, like all the time, and that’s all new and confusing and…terrifying. But I don’t want to lose it.”

“What are you saying?”

“That we should, maybe, talk this out like adults this time?” you smiled sheepishly, hesitantly. 

Silence rang over the room, but you felt gentle hands on your leg as he continued to inspect how your leg was healing. 

“You’re…right. We should…talk,” he said finally, and you felt the relief settle over your body, tension dropping away. 

“Glad you agree,” you said with a slight smile.


	6. Laid Bare

Your eyes traced the flicker of headlights through the narrow half-window as you tried to gather your thoughts into some sort of sense. You wanted to tell him everything. But what did that even mean anymore?

“So what is it you want to talk about?” Diego asked finally, cutting through the waiting silence. 

“Actually,” you looked down at your fingers where they rested on the tabletop, tracing anxious shapes against the laminate. “I know a lot more about you, by virtue of your very public childhood, than you know about me. Which I think, is part of the problem here. So the better question is, where do you want to start?”

“Alright,” he was silent for a moment, jaw twitching as if he was working the words over in his mouth before he said them. “Why do you get so defensive when I say you could do more with your powers, and your skills?”

“Because it’s judgmental, it relies on untrue assumptions, and I don’t like having other people’s will imposed on me,” you explained, face twisting wryly.

“Tell me the truth then.”

“What?”

“If my assumptions aren’t true, set the record straight.”

“You aren’t going to like what I have to say.”

“Now who’s the one making assumptions?”

You sighed. “It’s a long story, especially if I start at the beginning. So you might want to make yourself comfortable.”

He shifted in the hard plastic chair across from you, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, waiting expectantly.

“Your ‘father’ tried to buy me too, when we were babies,” you couldn’t help throwing air quotes around the word and he smiled at the gesture. “But my parents were stable. They both had jobs; they already had one child and were thinking about trying for another anyway. So they said no. And then my dad died, in a workplace accident, because his boss cut corners to save time and money, and things got hard. And the bastard never got punished for it, or even had the decency to pay for the funeral.”

He looked like he was going to say something, some comment of pity or sympathy and you held up a hand to stop him, knowing that if he did, you would fall apart and never finish telling him what he needed to know, what you needed him to know.

“Your dad showed up again, offered her literal millions to let him have me. At least twice that I know of, but there could have been more. But she was as stubborn as they come. I was _her_ daughter and he wasn’t getting me over her dead body. But a florist’s salary really isn’t enough to raise two kids on. Eventually, I realized that my abilities were things no one else could do, and figured out that I could use them to get things. So when money was skint, Daniel and I could still eat properly; rice and beans can only get a kid so far you know. Or we could have clothes that fit and didn’t have holes without bothering her.”

You shrugged, looking away from the growing ache on his face to stare at some spot on the wall. It had just been the facts of your reality. 

“And then I found that bigger risks meant bigger rewards. I could give her money or things, nice things like she deserved. She would cry and get so _mad_ at me, but she always took them and life seemed to get better.”

“Y/N….” he reached out across the table to take one of your hands, which you hadn’t noticed was getting more and more fidgety as you spoke. 

“I grew up. I realized it wasn’t just us. I figured out how to take care of myself, got a job that let me keep a roof over my head and food in the cupboard. Daniel had his own shit figured out, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone else. But all those other people needed someone to look out for them. And if the people I happen to take things from are the kind that exploit their workers or cheat their taxes instead of paying their fair share, who…cut corners and skimp on safety, who’s it hurting?”

You finally turned your eyes back to him, a challenge sparking in them to tell you that you were wrong.

“So it’s what? Karma with you as it’s righteous deliverer?” He asked.

You pursed your lips. He still wasn’t getting it. 

“Even with what I take, those people have more than they need. And now, kids get proper care; families don’t have to decide between going hungry and getting the lights turned off.” You shook your head. “I don’t know how to put it any simpler than that.”

He frowned. “I don’t...get it. I’m sorry, I’m trying to understand but…”

“Okay, how about an example then. When I stole from that museum, you know the one…”

He smirked at the memory.

“There was this kid. Rare terminal something, something. I don’t remember the details of it. Just that I was able to anonymously pay for the experimental treatment that he needed and he got to live to see twelve. His foster parents and the social worker didn’t have to worry about going bankrupt or applying to the state and praying they’d get funds. And all it cost was one less shiny rock, that some exploited worker probably died to fish out of the ground, wasting space on display.”

“You know,” he said off-handedly as if it wasn’t an obvious attempt to deflect, “the kinds of people that can afford to buy those things aren’t any better than the people you’re stealing from. In fact, they’re probably worse if they’re willing to buy from a fence.”

You rolled your eyes. “So? I’ll just rob them blind to fund a school or whatever later.”

“There’s got to be a better way,” he sighed. “One that isn’t criminal.”

“You find it for me then, Diego,” you snapped. “I’m doing the best I can to help as many people as possible with what I’ve got. And sure maybe there’s a little bit of a revenge angle but who cares? Every one of those assholes deserves it.” 

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, certain that you were losing him, that even after you had ripped your chest open and exposed your bleeding heart for the taking, he was going to ask for you to choose between him and your morals, your passions, things that made up the very fiber of your being.

He stood up, circling the table to kneel in front of you again. His hands came up to cup your face and he brushed away the moisture that leaked down your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Okay,” he said softly, eyes boring into yours. 

“Okay? What does that mean, ‘okay’?”

“I still don’t like it,” he started and you growled in frustration before he stared you down. “But...I understand. And I’ll try to stop fighting you on it, judging you for it.”

“Do you actually?” you asked.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he pulled back, not moving away completely, but enough that his hands were no longer on you and you felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

“I don’t know. It’s just this feeling I have. Like I can say whatever I want and tell you my life story in every explicit detail, but…I’m scared that you’re just saying those things to placate me. And that doubt is going to eat me alive.”

“What do you want me to do then, Y/N?”

“Work with me?” you suggested.

“I’m trying,” he countered, frustration leaching into his tone now. 

“No. I mean….Work one job with me, start to finish. Let me show you.”

“You want me to help you steal something?”

“Steal it. Sell it. Put it to good use. Together, as a team, the whole way through.”

“I…” he swallowed before nodding. “Alright.”

Plowing onward, not even registering his answer, you rambled, explaining that you weren’t expecting him to give up being a vigilante or go rogue and that if at any point he wanted out you’d let him, that you would even let him turn you over to the cops, as long as it wasn’t Eudora, if that was what he wanted, you just couldn’t take the doubt anymore. And then your mind caught up to reality and came to a screeching halt.

“Wait, really?” you asked incredulously. 

You had been expecting him not only to say no, but to get angry at the suggestion, bracing yourself for the inevitable complete rejection of it, maybe even of you, and trying to counter it preemptively.

“Yeah,” he nodded. " _If_ you come with me for a night in return. Try things my way too. I…I want there to be an us, and if this is what it takes for there to even be a chance of that, I’m willing to do it.”

You stared, stunned.

“Sounds like a fair trade,” you murmured eventually. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about…this…” you gestured between the two of you, indicating what you meant.

“Of course I do, I l—“ he cut himself off, looking away with a clenched jaw, nervous tension practically vibrating his whole body.

“One other thing?” you said, biting your lip.

“What?”

“We’re both terrible at communication, and trust,” you observed. “I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

He caressed your cheek once more, smiling softly. “I’ll try to be better if you will.”

You leaned in. “Deal.”

He closed the last gap of centimeters between you, pressing his lips to yours. You slowly sat back up, guiding him into a position hovering over you in the chair as his mouth chased where yours led, refusing to be parted from you. His tongue trailed hesitantly over your bottom lip, and you parted eagerly for him, losing yourself for a blissful moment in the kiss. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled reluctantly between kisses. 

“Why does it matter?” he countered, trying to shift you into a position more comfortable for you both.

“I have work. And you have streets to patrol. Although I know that’s far less exciting without your ravishing nemesis about,” you teased, breaking the kiss completely now.

“Mm...ravishing…” he muttered, eyes closed and face dazed. “I’d like that.”

You laughed. “You weren’t listening at all were you?”

He shook himself, blushing slightly as he opened his eyes to look at you.

“I appreciate your careful nursing, and this talk was...good, necessary, important. I don’t know. But I really do have to go.”

He sighed, sulking. “I know. Fine. I...I’ll see you later?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you smirked. “Maybe we can revisit the whole, ravishing idea.”

~

Several days later, Diego came over to your apartment. You had suggested it under the guise of, at least partially true, a need to start planning for your heist together. But really, you just wanted to see him again, to spend some time with him now that there was, properly, something between you. 

Your stomach twisted nervously in anticipation, realizing that this was another big step, one quickly after the other, letting him into your home. It had always been your safe place to hide, your sanctum, and you were disrupting that with a new presence. 

But, you reminded yourself, he wasn’t the first (though the total number was incredibly small), and he had already let you into his, even so far as to let you stay there. And you trusted him. More than anyone, save _maybe_ your brother. So it wouldn’t be so bad. 

You were just putting the finishing touches on the pot of cheesy mashed potatoes you had made when the intercom buzzed, indicating someone was at the building’s outer door and wanted to be let in. You hastily crossed the room to press the unlock button and the talk button at the same time.

“It’s open,” you called through the speaker.

There was no response but you heard the odd echo of the door opening and shutting and clicked off the box. A few moments later, someone knocked on your door. Despite knowing there was only one person it could be, you stood on your toes to look through the little peephole before sliding the chain aside and letting Diego in.

“Do you always just unlock your door for strangers?” he asked.

“Hmmm, no. Only the tall, dark and handsome ones.” 

You threaded your arms around his neck to greet him with a quick kiss, shaking your head and laughing when he responded with a hand on your backside.

“Something smells amazing,” he said as you pulled away and returned to the stove to finish the rest of dinner.

“Well, I figured since you were coming over, and our little...project was probably going to take a while, I should make food.” You shrugged, placing two steaming plates on your coffee table and gesturing for him to come sit beside you on the couch. “It’s not Michelin star or anything…”

He shoveled up a bite of the garlic-roasted vegetables and groaned in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect,” he countered around the mouthful.

“You eat raw eggs, so I think the bar’s pretty low,” you countered jokingly, "but thank you.”

~

After you had eaten and cleaned up from dinner, you decided it was time to get down to business. You led him over to one corner of the broad, open space that served as your ‘office’ of sorts, drawing the thick curtains shut as you passed, just in case any of the neighbors were out smoking on the fire escape tonight. 

“So, you said, planting your hands on the work table dramatically and looking across to him. “Any initial thoughts?”

His eyes grew wide, like a panicked deer. He opened his mouth and then closed it again several times, but no words came out.

“Relax,” you said, smiling reassuringly, eyes sparkling. “It’s not like I expected you to do any homework. It was just a question. I have a few ideas, but we’re supposed to be partners, so I didn’t want to launch into them without giving you a shot first.”

‘Partners.’ He thought he liked the sound of that, but he still found himself wishing it was doing what he was used to, instead of this. It felt wrong, like he was going against everything he’d been taught. But then, he supposed he had been taught by a man so rigid and set in his ways that he would never have even considered that there might be other options. And the last thing he wanted to do was be like Reginald Hargreeves. Besides, it was a one for one deal, and there was still a chance to change your mind.

He smiled at you. “You lead, I’ll follow. For this one.”

“I like the sound of that,” you muttered, smiling back, before settling back into a more serious mode.

“Some oil tycoon’s private collection is being temporarily hosted and displayed at the art museum. It’s a pretty soft target at night, easy to get in and out. Shockingly minimal security in general, and paintings are easy to move,” you offered. 

Diego nodded vaguely, wanting to hear everything you set out before agreeing to anything.

“Or, there’s another place I’ve been staking out for a while. A warehouse. Owned by D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co. Nothing to do with actual umbrellas, or manufacturing from what I can tell.”

Diego flinched, but you didn’t notice, having turned around to pull out a file of information you had been gathering. 

“It’s all shipping and receiving. Mostly receiving. Some stuff I think is probably stolen antiques; I think I saw a couple guys opening crates of straight cash at one point, and there’s definitely stuff labeled with shit like ‘caution: explosive’ which usually means weapons or some kind of chemicals and either way is bad news. Those don’t stay in the warehouse long, and I don’t tend to mess with that shit anyway…” you trailed off, noticing Diego’s strange expression. “What? Why are you staring?”

“That…that’s my father’s company.”

“Wait what? Really?” you couldn’t help the shock on your face. 

You knew that Hargreeves was a very rich man but somehow it had never occurred to you that he might actually own anything, other than the massive Academy. And you supposed in theory the seven babies he had bought. You bit the inside of your cheek to distract yourself, cutting off that train of thought before it went to dark places.

“Do you know what specifically he’s got there?” you asked hopefully.

“No. I...sorry I don’t.”

“Nah, that’s alright. And you’re sure it’s his? Not just a similar name or coincidence?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s definitely Dad’s company.”

“All the better then,” you smiled wolfishly, all teeth. “Vengeance and helping people. If you want? I mean, I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. We could always hit the museum. Or start listing some other options...”

He hesitated a moment. Then he nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

You grinned. Maybe this would turn out even better than you’d hoped. 

~

The two of you spent the next several hours working out the details of your plan, pouring over warehouse blueprints (that he didn’t ask where you’d gotten them from) and road maps, talking entry and exit strategies, rendezvous points, likely potential pitfalls, including the possibility that Hargreeves would send in his brother, Number One to try and stop you if he got wind of the break-in. Diego assured you that he was prepared to fight Luther if it came to it, and you frowned, heart clenching at his cold acquiescence to the idea.

Exhausted, heads drooping and necks and shoulders aching, you finally decided to call it quits for the night. There was still more to go over, but you had time, and tonight you weren’t going to get anywhere useful with the fog that was settling into your minds. 

“I guess I should go,” he murmured as you both turned toward the door.

“Do you want to?” your face felt hot with a blush and you looked away from him as you asked. 

“What else would I do?” he stepped in front of you, turning your head to look at him again. 

You knew that he knew what you were offering, but he wanted to hear you say it anyway, to make sure the invitation was explicitly there. God, just when you thought he couldn’t get more perfect, he went and did a thing like that. 

You bit your lip, the words feeling heavy in your throat, every nerve suddenly hyper-aware.

“You could stay?” you offered, tilting your head slightly to one side. 

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I mean, I spent a week freeloading off you at your place. The least I can do is offer tonight, especially with how late it’s gotten. It’s dangerous out in the city alone at night you know.” You chuckled, trying to break the tension that crackled between you.

“Y/N…”

“It’s a really nice couch to sleep on,” you continued nervously. “I’ve fallen asleep on it before, pretty often actually when I come home and I’m just too tired. Or if I’m watching a movie or something.”

“Is that what you want?” his voice was soft and he was so close that his breath ghosted over your face.

“Is what?”

“For me to stay, and sleep on your couch?” He made sure you were making complete eye-contact with him, voice serious. “Be honest, and don’t just say something out of feeling like you’re obligated.”

“It’s not an obligation, Diego,” you assured him, hand cupping his face in counterpoint to the one he still had resting on your face. “I want you to stay.”

“On the couch?”

You shook your head. “Not unless you _want_ to sleep on the couch.”

He opened his mouth to ask again if you were sure, to try and get you to say instead of dance around the invitation you were making. You rolled your eyes, kissing him fiercely. 

“Christ Diego,” you groaned against his lips. “I am trying to say I want you, as much of you as you’re willing to let me have.”

That seemed to finally be good enough for him, as he kissed you back with just as much ferocity as you had used. Your lips parted eagerly before he'd even had the chance to act, and your tongues danced together. The hand you had on his cheek slid back to grasp his short-cropped hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made him shiver. Your other gripped tightly to his shoulder to hold yourself steady. He continued to cup your face, his thumb running slowly back and forth over your cheekbone in tender circles, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you close to him. 

Carefully, without breaking contact between you, you led him in a sort of dance, crossing the apartment, circling the edge of the dividing screens that formed your bed“room”, stepping over laundry piles, and finally tumbling backward onto the already rumpled sheets. 

Pulling back to give you both a moment to breathe, Diego shifted, taking off his boots and socks. He bit his lip, staring down at you, your hair splayed around you like a halo, lips reddened from his kisses, skin practically glowing in the dim light (or was that just you?). 

“What?” you asked teasingly. “Have I got something on my face?”

“You’re just…” he found himself at a loss for words, every one he could come up with seeming insufficient.

“Beautiful,” he finally breathed, brushing a finger reverently across your cheek once more, continuing on to trace up your temple before threading back, into your hair. 

“Diego,” you sighed, reaching again to draw him close, needy and wanting. 

He leaned down, tugging lightly on your hair, to expose your neck, placing teasing kisses along the column of your throat. You pressed your lips together to stifle a moan as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of your pulse point. You felt him smirk against your skin and had only a few seconds before he redoubled his efforts, biting down harder on the same spot and causing you to cry out. He glided his tongue over the mark he made and his free hand trailed over your stomach, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, shockingly cold against your heated skin. You gasped at the contact, melting into his touch and moving like a marionette for him as he released your hair and lifted your arms above your head to pull the offending garment off, tossing it aside. You thought you heard the clatter of something being knocked over by it, but you couldn’t be bothered to care as his lips reconnected with your own. 

The next kiss was languid and tender, his arms pulling you close, yours curling around his shoulders, fingers dancing mindless patterns over his bicep. You tugged unceremoniously at his own shirt which he was quick to shuck off. A shiver ran through you at the feel of his skin on yours.

His lips continued their journey downward and you arched into him as they found the swell of your breast. You couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, hand dropping from where you clung to him to clutch the sheets beside you as he sucked an obvious mark there, just above the line of your bra. 

Your chest heaved as you struggled to regain your breath or senses when he suddenly withdrew. Your face flushed hotly as you caught his eye and he flashed you a wink, swiftly kicking off his pants. He crawled back up the mattress to you and you pulled him into another kiss, your tongues tangling together almost immediately, as if you were made for it.

As his hand slipped down to your waistband, deftly undoing the button there, you couldn’t help trembling under his touch, gasping when he slipped inside to run teasing fingers over the soft cotton of your panties. 

Suddenly, the reality of what was happening crashed over you like an icy wave and you felt like you were suffocating. It was too much. Everything was too much.

Planting your hands firmly, you pushed his shoulders to put some space between you.

“Diego, wait,” you said softly.

Immediately he froze. Seconds ticked by, somehow agonizingly slowly and impossibly fast all at once, before he moved again, drawing his hand away and shifting his weight off of you completely. He locked eyes with yours, fear and misery staining his face as you both sat up. You reached for him, and he flinched away. You let your hand drop.

“I-I’mmmm,” his breath hitched painfully and he closed his eyes. “I’mm s-sorry.”

“Diego,” you sighed. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Why would you think…”

Your brow creased in confusion and distress that he was so upset.

“I...w-ww-went too far o-or hurt you or…”

You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that slipped out. 

“No you didn’t. You have been nothing but good to me, and you’ve done _nothing_ that I didn’t _absolutely_ want you to do. I’m just...not sure I’m ready to take things any further. Not tonight at least. Let’s just take it slow, okay?”

He nodded, finally opening his eyes, looking down at you again and letting you brush a light caress against his face. There was still some hesitation, like he didn’t quite believe that you weren’t hurt or upset, so you curled your fingers against the corner of his jaw, pulling him to meet you. Your lips moved slowly against his, watching carefully for any sign that he wanted to withdraw.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, if anything,” you said reluctantly.

“What?” his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What for?”

“Leading you on?” you said, stating what you thought was obvious. 

He pressed his forehead to yours tenderly. “Sure, if you had done that.”

“I did. I mean what else would you call inviting you to stay the night like this and then...not following through…” you bit your lip, trying to look away from his earnest gaze.

“Y/N,” he said seriously. “Setting a boundary, or changing your mind, is not the same thing as leading me on.”

“But--”

He sighed heavily, the sound cutting you short.

“I’d be lying if I said there’s not a little disappointment. But you’re more important to me than sex. And I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with, that you don’t want just as much.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, relief and love mingling with embarrassment and guilt, no matter what he said. 

“I’d have even been fine if you really had, or do, ask me to sleep on the couch, Y/N.” He brushed away a stray tear that rolled down toward your chin. “As long as I still have you, in my life.”

“You only have to move to the couch if you want to,” you said, trying to fight down the small smile that threatened to break out on your face. “I’d like it if you stayed. We could maybe keep kissing? Or just, sleep together? Actual sleep…”

He chuckled. “Sleep sounds pretty nice. It is late. And I can’t remember the last time I got a full night.”

“Well in that case, make yourself comfortable,” you laughed, awkwardly extracting an arm to gesture at the rest of the bed. 

Diego returned the laugh and flopped over to the side, stretching out on his back as he settled in for sleep. Briefly he marveled at the softness of the way the mattress sank around him. It was like sleeping on a cloud compared to his lumpy old thing.

His eyes followed you as you moved around the space, shimmying out of your jeans and trading your bra for an overstretched and faded t-shirt, stamped with some university logo. He watched one hand reach behind you to quickly undo the clasp, the two sides practically springing away from each other when you did. You slid the garment off and for a brief moment you were naked, or nearly so - the soft smooth expanse of your skin even from behind making his pulse race with desire again - before you pulled the soft fabric down over your head, the hem trailing across the tops of your thighs, and hid yourself from view again.

You quickly flicked off the lights throughout the little studio apartment.

Any lingering thought, any regret that all he'd gotten was that brief peek, was immediately wiped from his mind as you padded back over to the bed and crawled into it with him. Curling up in almost a ball, you tucked yourself into the hollow of his side, head brushing against his arm as you nestled further down into the bedding, trying to get as comfortable as possible. You breathed in deeply, the scent of him - sharp and spicy and mingled with leather and the cleaning oil he used on his knives, so oft exposed that they had become a natural part of his smell - filling your lungs and spirit with comfort. 

“Goodnight Diego,” you whispered, breath tickling his skin.

He brought his arm down, drawing you closer against him.

“Goodnight.”

You brushed your lips across his cheek in a fleeting kiss that he thought he might have imagined before settling back in your original position. He smiled, the feeling of your warmth lulling him into the best sleep he’d had in ages.


	7. Interlude with the Detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so much a story-progression chapter. Just a conversation I wanted to include to tie up loose ends but couldn't figure out where it belonged.

“Eudora,” you called out, jogging to catch up with her at the little coffee cart on the corner, which you had definitely not been staking out waiting for her, “hey.”

She smiled. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to see you back on your feet.”

“Yeah,” you returned her expression as you set a few dollars on the counter to pay for her drink before she could. “I haven’t gotten a chance to thank you yet for keeping my ass from getting fired while I was...laid up.”

“Oh please, it was the least I could do for a…” her eyes flickered with hesitation, "friend."

You frowned. “Do you have some time to talk? I’m sensing...that is I feel like...we left some stuff unfinished between us? Or unsaid.” 

She sighed. “Y/N, it’s fine. You’re acting like one of us is leaving. You’re not, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, no I’m not going anywhere. But you’re my best friend, Dora, and I don’t want things to be weird between us. Please? If you’re not busy?”

Finally she relented and you grinned in gratitude as she led the way down the street to a park that was, at this time of year especially, empty. You sat beside each other on one of the cold wooden benches, breath steaming in the air, hanging as thick and evident as the tense expectancy between you. 

“I don’t know where to start,” you said quickly, rushing your words out before they could get caught in your throat. “I just feel like there’s so much I owe you an apology for: my powers, and Diego, and us and I...I screwed up so much and I want to fix it if I can but you deserve better and I…”

“Woah, hey, Y/N,” she said, placing her free hand on your arm. “Slow down. Take it easy.”

You looked at her, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry, Dora. For everything.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies, Y/N. Especially not regarding Diego. We’re all adults making our own decisions. He and I broke up over a year ago, before we ever met. And it was a mutual decision because we cared about each other but we weren’t compatible romantically. We wanted different things, led different lives. We’re better as friends than we ever were together.” She laughed ruefully.

“Still, I was friends with you and knew about the two of you when he and I...whatever, started this thing between us.”

She rolled her eyes. “Y/N, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve only seen you two together once and you were unconscious for the whole thing, and I could still tell that you and Diego have something special, and I’m happy for you. If I were hurt by it, or still in love with him, it might be different. But I’m not, so we’ll never know.”

You chewed on your lip, mulling over what she said, and finding the words comforting

“Do you love him?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“I do,” you admitted, sheepish. “I just…don’t want to say it.”

“Why not?” 

“I dunno,” you shrugged, mumbling.

“Y/N. I am your friend and a pretty good detective, so I can tell you’re lying.”

“Same reason I want to make sure things are good with you. I don’t want him to leave, or you to leave,” you admitted, twisting your hands nervously in your lap. “People leave a lot.”

Setting her coffee aside at her foot, she held open her arms, inviting you into a hug which you happily accepted. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” she promised, holding you close. “You’re one of my best friends, and you’re stuck with me for life.”

You laughed. “I like the sound of that. You’re...I don’t have a lot of friends, but even if I did, I’d pick you above the lot of them, Dora. But…there was kind of, or at least I thought there might be...not friendship feelings? And I never said anything when I could have.”

“Neither did I,” she pulled back to look at you. “Probably a sign, don’t you think?” her face scrunched up as she said it and pulled another laugh from your lips.

“Maybe you’re right. And I guess we did just agree to this whole ‘forever’ thing, so there’s still time.”

“I’m not waiting around for you,” she teased. “But if you ever get sick of Diego, and I’m available, we can revisit.” 

The two of you shared a smile, relaxing into a normal conversation from there. 

“I have to get to work soon,” she said reluctantly after a while of catching up.

“Right. There was just one more thing...the powers thing,” you said, swallowing down a lump of guilt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not disguising her hurt. 

“It’s nothing personal, Dora,” you tried to explain. “I don’t like telling anyone about it. Diego only knows because he saw me do it…”

“Is that actually true, or are you just saying it because you think it’ll appease me?”

“I guess, I don’t know. I’m not used to having people where I care about whether they know. And I did care what you thought. You mean the world to me, Eudora and I decided not to tell you because I didn’t want us to not be equals anymore, or you to see me any differently. I probably would have told you eventually.”

“Y/N,” she sighed, shaking her head at you. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. It might have made me feel weird for a little while, like a sidekick. You know, wondering why you wasted your time with someone like me, that’s so much less than you are, but it wouldn’t changed how I saw you.”

“Excuse me, no. You are not less than me or anyone. If anything, the fact that you do this job and everything you do, you put up with all the shit and throw yourself into danger for others, without the security of powers to protect you and fall back on. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

She smiled, blushing and looking down at the ground. 

“Anyway, I should let you get to work. But...we’re good?” 

“Of course we are. And still on for movie night next week if you want. You could even bring Diego, if you can get him to agree.”

“It’s a date. No promises about him though,” you rolled your eyes, before standing and hugging her again. “Thanks, Dora.”


	8. Heist, Heist Baby

After the first, most intense night of planning, it took three weeks before you were confident that the pair of you was ready to carry out your heist. You spent most of that time on “research,” staking out the warehouse to verify things such as guard rotations, security systems, and surrounding traffic, watching for patterns in shipment deliveries, hoping for a slip up, one missed logo on a shirt or van, anything to tell you who or where the crates were coming from. When you weren’t busy with that, you and Diego were going over the plan, discussing each person’s role and what you would do in different potential scenarios (in addition to being an almost normal new couple, getting to know each other even better and learning how to exist in conjuncture). 

Finally, you were satisfied that you had everything you were going to get from mere watching. Diego, trusting your instincts on the matter, agreed to your decision, meeting you at your apartment for last minute planning and then commencement of the main event.

You picked up the backpack containing your gear, turning back to grin at Diego. 

“Ready?” you asked. 

“Not quite,” he answered with a soft smile, stepping well into your personal space.

“What do you--” your question was cut off as he cupped your face gently between his hands and kissed you. You inhaled sharply, the breath slowly escaping again in a sigh as you melted into his touch. 

“For luck,” he whispered against your lips, eyes crinkled in a smile when your eyes fluttered back open. 

You smiled back. “I don’t think we need luck, but maybe you should do that again, just to be sure.”

“If I do that, we might never leave,” he said, voice low and gravelly in a way that sent your skin tingling. 

“Promises, promises,” you teased, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s get this party started.”

~

The streets were dark around you as Diego pulled his car to a park, about a mile from the warehouse. Your getaway secured, you made your way the rest of the way on foot. The agreement was that, given the size of the building, you would go in together and then split up to cover ground. Each of you would try to find a few worthwhile items to bag that were small enough to go unnoticed, and you’d make note of any information you found in the process that would tell what Reginald was doing with all this stuff, or who he was getting it from and sending it to. Exit the way you came and rendezvous at the car in two hours. You had a series of signals in place in case something went wrong, and what to do if it did (primarily scatter and meet back together when the coast was clear, possibly even a day or two later if necessary).

Partnerships were risky in your line of work, but somehow it felt safe with Diego. 

Covering you both in a wavering reflectivity in case there was a camera that you missed, you tried the unsecured back exit that was meant to be your way in and frowned. This door, by all rights, should have been easy to open, kept unlocked and unhindered as an emergency escape for the employees. 

“Locked,” you said with a frown, deadly serious despite your light tone. “Now that seems like a safety hazard. Maybe we should fix it for your dear old dad.”

Diego placed a hand over yours where it trembled on the door handle. You turned your head to look back at him, heart clenching at the expression of concern and understanding on his face. You breathed a shaky sigh, blinking back the tears (mostly of anger) in your eyes and tried to get your mind back on the work at hand. Examining the lock again, you decided on the right tools and pulled a thin crowbar from your bag, twirling it in your hands a few times before holding it out to him.

“Would you like to do the honors,” you smiled at him, “partner?”

He flashed a grin back, placing his hand just over yours and taking the bar from you. You shifted back, watching - and greatly enjoying the view of - him make quick work of popping the lock, his muscles flexing visibly beneath his tight black sweater. He passed the crowbar back to you and held the door cracked open.

“Ladies first,” he said softly, bowing to you with a flourish that made you giggle. 

“You just want to be able to watch me walk,” you teased, winking.

He shrugged, gesturing as if to say it couldn’t be helped. 

The warehouse had a certain spookiness to it as you entered, slipping carefully through the rigidly arranged aisles of shelf after shelf of crate. Each one seemed to be perfectly aligned as a sharp, straight line from floor to nearly ceiling. Somehow, you weren’t surprised by this, given everything you had heard or learned about the infamous Hargreeves. But it gave you the creeps, nothing should be this perfect, especially not a warehouse of suspicious and possibly illegal goods. 

By now, you had lost track of Diego in the maze, and even though that was the plan, it sent a shiver down your spine. Eventually, you found your way to a more open section, clearly some sort of inventory area with half-opened crates and long metal tables covered in individual objects. 

As you glanced around in the dim light, something moved on the other side of the area, making you jump. Your foot skidded on loose packing material, sending you stumbling into one of the large rolling ladders and it subsequently squeaking across the floor.

“Who’s there?” a voice called from somewhere up above and behind you.

Freezing, not daring to even breathe, you called upon your powers more firmly while your mind raced. There were catwalks that weren’t on the blueprints, or the shelves were such that they supported security officers walking around on their tops. There was security inside the building that you had somehow missed, despite staking out for so long and tracking the comings and goings. How had you messed this up so badly?

Your eyes flickered to the ground where the packing material lay and noticed that it was only on the ground near where the aisles joined with the room, and the ladders happened to be positioned right next to those spots. 

“Shit,” you muttered. You had led the way straight into a trap. 

“I’m guessing you just noticed that this was a setup too,” Diego asked, voice barely audible as he appeared at your shoulder (you had been too busy scolding yourself for your mistake to notice him creep around the edge of the room.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you continued to look around, feeling the walls close around you like a cage. 

Suddenly a bullet whizzed past your head as Diego yanked you out of it’s path, pressing tight to you and pinning you against the wall. He turned, whipping something from a nearby table at the guard, hitting him squarely and causing him to stumble back. 

You heard shouts and the pounding of more boots on the metal pathways above.

“Well Master Thief, what now?” he asked, breath ghosting over your face. 

“Now? Running’s always a good option. I don’t think these guys will be so amenable to flirting as a distraction while we make our grand escape as some.” You couldn’t help winking at him, teasing despite the danger.

He stared at you, incredulous at your brazenness, but still he nodded minutely in consent. You waited a breath before linking hands with him and pushing off, moving shadow to shadow and stretching your powers as best you could to aid in your flight. The two of you darted back through the shelves, and you prayed that you were indeed headed for the door you had left propped open and ready for escape. 

‘Why were there no alarms going off?’ You wondered, sure that there should be more concern at your presence. 

You burst through the back door, and kept going, lungs burning as you wove your way through the deserted streets. Eventually, you realized that there was no pursuit and slowed to a halt in a narrow alleyway, still positioned so that you could watch in case you were proven wrong.

Diego doubled over and you collapsed against him, holding each other up as you panted, breathless from the run. His shoulders shook, and you quickly realized he was laughing, almost giddy. It was an unfamiliar sound, and it made your heart light. Unsure why you were doing it or what could possibly be funny, you found yourself joining in, until you could both barely stand for a new reason. 

When your eyes connected, you instantly sobered, breath catching as he leaned closer, one hand finding the back of your neck to draw you in. No matter how many times he kissed you, it still felt like the first time, like a once in a lifetime moment. 

“What was that for?” you asked, dazed as he pulled away. 

“Do I need a reason?” he countered, smiling at you. 

“Hmm,” you pretended to think about it for a moment before kissing him this time. “No. You don’t.”

A few moments later, he sighed. “What happened back there? Besides a huge disaster. Nothing was what it was supposed to be?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t like it,” you said darkly. “It wasn’t a total failure though. I did get this.” 

You held up a long, looped necklace practically dripping with pearls and chips of sapphire, the jewels and metal glittering in the floodlight over the nearby restaurant back door. He shook his head incredulously, gaping in wonder at you and trying to figure out exactly how and when you had managed to slip that into your bag without him noticing. 

“Plus, you can’t tell me you didn’t have fun.” You grinned, waiting for him to try to deny it. 

But he didn’t even try, knowing that he, in fact, had. It wasn’t so much about the actual theft, and breaking and entering really wasn’t new to him, but having you there with him, working with you. It was perfect. And to see the delight glittering in your eyes as you inspected your prize, your expression too pure to be greed and too calculating to be adrenaline…

“I love you,” he blurted out. 

The necklace slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground, but you hardly heard it, ears still ringing and repeating what you just heard. 

“Diego. Did you just…” you murmured, hesitating, afraid that asking would make him backtrack and that your heart might actually explode if he did.

“I,” he took a deep breath, catching your now empty hands in his. “I love you, Y/N.”

Before you knew what was happening, there were tears rolling down your cheeks. Panicked, he dropped your hands in order to brush them away with his thumbs, cradling your face in his palms and shushing you soothingly. 

“What? Sh-should I have not said--” he looked crushed and frightened.

You shook your head as best you could from this position. 

“No, I just never…thought someone would...what I mean is that they’re happy tears,” you tried to explain. “And I love you too, Diego, so much.”

His grin was dazzling, brighter than anything you could have mustered even with all of your power. Your heart fluttered, so overjoyed that you struggled to focus as he leaned in.

Just as his lips ghosted over yours, a high-pitched scream cut through the night. The pair of you jumped apart, looking around for a source, tense and ready to fight. 

“We’re, uh, going to go investigate that, aren’t we?” you asked with a barely suppressed sigh of disappointment. 

Diego, shrugged apologetically. “We should.”

“Alright, I wasn’t expecting to do this whole ‘step into the other’s shoes’ thing both in one night, but lead the way, my stabby boyfriend.” You gestured dramatically and grinned.

Diego rolled his eyes fondly before taking off in the direction the sound had come from, maintaining a light jog and you kept up pace just behind him, pulling little motes of light from the streetlights you passed, just in case.


	9. Tireless

The source of the scream, it turned out, was a young woman a few blocks away, surrounded and being menaced by three local goons. You looked at Diego, who nodded, miming that you should circle around to one side and he would go the other. The pair of you moved in an unpracticed but smooth synchronicity as you circled the would-be attackers and then struck. 

In a blink, Diego had pinned one assailant in a headlock, slowly crushing his windpipe until he passed out and lowering him to the ground. You focused the light you had been gathering into as fine a point as you could, searing the second man and causing him to cry out, doubling over in pain. Turning sharply to face the third man, you watched out of the corner of your eye as the woman looked between the men and you and Diego, gave another short shriek, and ran off.

The last of the ruffians charged at you only to be cut off by Diego stepping into his path and tripping him, sending him sprawling. He rolled deftly back to his feet and swung a wild haymaker at Diego, who dodged. Fairly sure he could handle himself, you turned yourself back to the man you burned, seizing his arm roughly, fingers digging into some of the injuries you’d already caused and making him yelp as you twisted it behind him to keep him from rejoining the fray. 

“Shit luck man,” you mocked as you leaned out of range of the half-hearted thrashing of his head and shoulders. 

“I’ve got a pretty bitch pinning me down,” he sneered. “I’m still in a better position than your friend.”

You rolled your eyes on instinct, before letting your attention turn back to the combat, doubt creeping cold across your neck. Your heart lurched in your throat as you watched the other man not only hold his own against Diego, but actually get in a couple of solid, painful looking hits. Diego stumbled back a couple of steps, movements more sluggish than they should have been. Diego swung, missing wide and opening himself up to a sharp jab to the stomach. He doubled over; his opponent took another swing, catching the side of Diego’s head as he struggled to straighten.

You called on your power again, flickering the lights at the head of the alley, hoping it caught Diego’s attention enough to hint at what you were planning. You watched him only narrowly dodge again and decided that it didn’t matter as much as putting an end to the fight as soon as possible. Quickly you flicked the light forward in a blinding flash, watching Diego duck his head away while his opponent shouted and threw up his hands, rubbing at his eyes. Taking advantage of the moment, Diego swept his legs out from under him and sent him sprawling.

Unfortunately, you were too focused on their fight, and the man you had incapacitated took advantage of the moment and his larger size to throw you off. For a split second he had you pinned to the ground, alcohol-laced breath hot and sour on your face before he thought better of whatever he might do and shoved instead, battering you against the uneven pavement and climbing to his feet. Grabbing his compatriots, the first one just now stirring and the third still blind, he took off running. 

As soon as they had disappeared, you and Diego rushed to each other. He clutched at you, hands and eyes roaming in search of injury. 

“Diego, relax,” you murmured, running a soothing hand over his cheek, careful to avoid the areas that already looked puffy and like they might bruise. “I’m okay. I’m more worried about you.”

“Me?” he asked, frowning, aggravating the small split in his eyebrow. “Why would you be worried about me?”

You gave him a disbelieving look. He chuckled. 

“It takes more than a few hits to hurt me,” he insisted. 

“Right, that’s why I just had to save you before he handed you your ass,” you scoffed. 

He opened his mouth to protest, reconsidering when he caught sight of the slight frown creasing your brow. He pulled you into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around you and pinning you flush against him. You buried your face in his neck, comforted by his hold on you, arms sliding up under his to splay across his back.

“I promise,” he murmured against the top of your head. “I’m alright. Are you?”

You took a deep breath, shuddering slightly as you tried to calm your still racing heart. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good, now.”

Diego slipped one hand under your chin, turning your face up to kiss you. His thumb stroking lightly across your jaw, he slowly deepened the kiss as you gave way before him, giving in to his every touch and action. He kissed you like he was trying to consume you, and you returned it with wholehearted willingness to let him. 

Tugging you gently further into the alleyway, he toyed with the edge of your shirt, making you gasp as the pads of his thumb skimmed over your bare skin. The fire his touch lit drove you with a need for more, to be closer, to surrender further. You needed to feel him, to know that he was there: real and solid and safe and yours.

Shifting your grasp so one hand clung to his shoulder and the other hooked around his neck, you lifted a leg and wrapped it around his hips, dragging your clothed core across the growing bulge in his pants in the process. Smirking, he slid one hand down to your ass, supporting your weight so you could jump up, effectively straddling his waist in this standing position and creating even more friction between you. His free hand found its way into your hair, tugging gently to angle your head in exactly the way he wanted. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, trailing his lips along your jaw, seeking out the point that made you cry out and focusing his attention there.

“I need you, Diego,” you begged, rolling your hips slowly against him. 

He pulled back to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You fell silent for a moment, just trying to focus on what you were feeling. Any hesitation you’d had before was gone, replaced by that overwhelming desire. You wanted this. You wanted him, more than anyone else in your life. 

“Yes,” you murmured, nodding. “Absolutely sure.”

“Right now?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else around…”

He smiled. “Your wish is my command,” he hummed, leaning in to kiss you again, even more passionately than before, if that were possible. 

Moving steadily, he brought you to rest on the rungs of a fire escape ladder, the metal cold against your back. Your balance more stable against the fixture, Diego’s hand was free to trail across your hip and down between the two of you to deftly open your pants. You gasped as his fingers glided over your skin, lifting your hips to assist him in sliding your jeans down your legs. 

You brushed your lips along his jaw, placing little kisses as you made your way to the sensitive spot behind his ear, sucking and nipping at it to draw out a needy moan. You whined as his hand slipped beneath the cotton of your underwear, quickly finding your clit. Dropping your hands from around his neck you unbuttoned his pants, unceremoniously shoving them, and his boxers with them, downward.

“Shit,” he breathed, continuing lower to tease your folds. “You’re so wet. Is all this for me baby?”

“Diego, please,” you begged, voice muffled against his skin. You bucked against his touch, needing more, needing him. 

“Say it, Y/N,” he growled. “I need you to say it.” 

You bit your lip, leaning in to make sure your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Fuck me, Diego. _Please._ ”

No more words needed to be exchanged. Diego locked eyes with you for a moment, some unfathomable tenderness in his gaze despite the situation. Then, with one hand cupping the back of your neck, he pulled you into a kiss at the same time his other hand moved your panties to the side so he could enter you. 

You keened against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist as he slowly bottomed out inside you. He returned his hands to your ass and lower back, supporting you away from the rusted metal beneath you. Your hands clawed and gripped at his back, arms, shoulders, neck, anywhere you could, desperately seeking purchase as he increased his pace and you met thrust with counterthrust, rutting against each other and chasing your highs. His mouth was hot and insistent on yours, tongues tangling together, hungrily swallowing down gasps and moans. 

As he backed off to breathe, you couldn’t help but stare at him, silhouetted above you in the pink, dawning sky. 

The world felt like it was spinning, hurdling at impossible speeds and only his touch anchored you. 

“Oh fu--,” you mewled, unable to finish the exclamation as your orgasm shattered through you, toes curling in your boots and his name cried out, uncaring of the volume. 

Your body’s reaction, tensing and jerking against him, muscles gripping and fluttering, and the sound of his name screamed that way made him groan. His fingers dug bruisingly into your skin as he gave a few final, sharp thrusts before pulling out completely, spilling himself on the ground. 

You both practically collapsed against the ladder, gasping for breath and trying to pull yourselves back together. 

“That was…” Diego started, trailing off as he looked at you, flushed and panting and disheveled beneath him. 

“Amazing?” you finished, smiling dazedly up at him, running your fingers over his neck and the marks your nails had left there. 

He chuckled, nodding in agreement before heaving himself up and offering you a hand. You shivered, feeling the cool air rush over your heated skin where contact was lost. You let him pull you to your feet and the pair of you quickly dressed, righting yourselves as best you could. 

“We should…get out of here,” he murmured, even as he pulled you close to kiss you softly again. 

“Mhm, probably for the best. We’ve caused quite a bit of chaos in the neighborhood,” you laughed, lacing fingers with his and scooping up your bag. 

You leaned against his arm as you walked, one might even call it strolled, toward where you had left the car. You felt light, like you couldn’t possibly be happier if you tried. For all that the night had started out a mess - and you fully intended to investigate how things in the warehouse had gone so sideways - it was ending better than you could have dreamed.

“Back to yours?” Diego asked when you both climbed into the car. 

A sudden idea flashed in your mind, and you shrugged, deciding to just go for it. You could always play it off as a joke when it didn’t fly.

“We could,” you said, the tone of your voice making him turn to you, catching the mischievous glint in your eye.

“You have something else in mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s totally stupid, but I was thinking…”

You took a deep breath and explained your thought process, closing your eyes until you were done so that you couldn’t be stopped short by his reaction. You loved him. You had been in love with him for a while and had just been too scared to say it. You wanted to tell the world. You wanted him, for now, forever, for as long as he’d have you. You trusted him, beyond reason or logic. There was no one else you had ever felt like this about, and you were sure that there never would be. 

“I know it’s nuts, and makes no sense, and we don’t have to do it, I just...it suddenly hit me so I thought I’d say it.” You kept your eyes pinched shut, afraid of what you’d see when you opened them, expecting it to be horror or fear or judgment. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, catching your chin again. “Look at me?”

“I’d rather not. The darkness is much better, easier to wallow in shame for my stupid, impulsive mouth.” You laughed, the sound strangled and bordering on desperate.

“Please, baby?”

The pleading in his tone was too much to resist and slowly you cracked first one eye open and then the other. The total love and devotion and trust in his eyes as he stared back sent your world spinning again. 

“Are you serious about this?” he asked. 

“I…” you opened your mouth, trying to force out a denial so that you could both laugh it off as a joke and go home, never to discuss it. But you couldn’t. Because you were serious, and you were sure. 

“Yes,” you answered sheepishly, cheeks heated in a blush. 

He smiled, slowly creeping across his face until he practically glowed. “Then let’s do it.”

Your heart leapt, dancing wildly in your chest, composing a whole ballet in an instant. You smiled back.

“We’ll need to pick up a few things, and I have to call in a favor,” you said slowly, carefully calculating all of the necessary details, stomach turning giddily.

Diego started the car, slowly driving away from the warehouses and deserted buildings, headed back for the center of the city, one hand still laced in yours as he drove.

“So let’s split up,” he suggested, “and meet back at the park under the gazebo in...how much time do you need?”

“It shouldn’t take more than an hour, if things are open and we don’t have to do any waiting. And if we’ve got spare time, maybe we could find something a little nicer to change into than,” you gestured to what the pair of you were wearing, now looking rather worn from the busy night’s work. 

“Alright,” he said, “what’s my shopping list?”


	10. For Better or Worse

“Is there one you’re trying to match?” the clerk asked as Diego stared in bewilderment at the case of rings. 

“Oh. Uh, no. We didn’t really...do things the traditional way,” he explained awkwardly. 

“I see…” the clerk nodded knowingly, in a way that made Diego fairly certain they actually didn’t. “Well, we have some nice simple sets in case you decide to go back and fill in later, or you can buy it now with these ones?”

He pressed his lips together in thought. One the one hand, why get a ring symbolizing something that never happened? On the other, Y/N deserved all of the nicest things he could offer her, nicer than he could actually. 

“Let me see what you have,” he stated decisively, even though it was a decision not to decide until he had thoroughly looked over all of his options. 

At first, everything in the tray that the clerk pulled out looked exactly the same, and exactly like the kind of thing Y/N would hate, all unnecessarily large gemstones and gaudy detailing. And then one, nearly lost in the sea, caught his eye: the ring was solid silver, and made of three uneven, textured bands woven together. He pointed it out to the clerk who raised their eyebrows in surprise but offered it up, explaining that it had been a custom piece the purchaser never picked up. Upon closer inspection, Diego realized that the bands were each shaped to look like a different material: rope, barbed wire, and chain, all intricately braided with knots like roses where the three shapes met. It was perfect, like fate had designed it for you. 

“This is the one,” he breathed, awed by the luck of finding it, actually feeling tears sting at the corners of his eyes.

“An...excellent choice sir. I’ll just box it up for you. Unfortunately we don’t have any that would sit right with that one as a stack, but we do have one men’s band that has a similar braided motif if you’d like to take a look at that and forgo the third?”

He nodded, and the clerk moved over to another case to pull out another ring, this one a solid, flat silver with an engraved “rope” spiralling loosely around it. It wasn’t a perfect match, but it complimented the other well. He had never been one for metaphors, but this one smacked him in the face hard enough to not be ignored. 

He paid the clerk for both rings, not even caring about the price, and checked the time, deciding there was enough to visit the consignment shop down the road and at least find a clean shirt to wear.

~

“Heeey, Daniel,” you said cheerfully. “What are you up to this morning?”

“I was sleeping, since I have a day off for the first time in who knows how long,” your brother answered, voice still cottony from sleep but twinged with a sharp irritation. 

“Great! Can I ask you a huge favor?” you smiled pleadingly at the receiver, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. 

“What did you do?” you could almost picture him scowling as he leaned forward, all professional now.

“Nothing. It’s actually about what I want to do. It’s a long story, and kind of complicated. There’s this guy. I’ve been dating him for a few weeks, but also we’ve kind of had a...thing for almost two years,” you paused marvelling at the realization you had known Diego for so long and yet also that it felt like so much longer. “And we decided to…” you trailed off, knowing that his protective instincts would kick in, and also that he was prone to being judgmental. “Look, can you please, please, please meet us at City Park in an hour and be our justice of the peace?”

“What?!”

“I know that it sounds nuts and that as my big brother you have every right to question my sanity, but, don’t fight me on it. I love Diego, more than anything. Please?”

There was a long pause and you wondered if he had put down the phone, or fainted, or something.

“Are you sure about this?” he finally asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer that. 

“No,” you finally answered. “I don’t know how to explain. It’s just this…feeling I have. Maybe it’s a mistake, but I’m taking a gamble. Chasing what I want. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.”

You heard a rustling and the slam of a drawer. Daniel sighed. 

“You’re going to need two witnesses.”

“I know, I’ll get that bit sorted. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Munchkin. I want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you assured, unable to keep the smile from your face, or out of your voice. “I really, really am.” 

You said your goodbyes and hung up the payphone, trying to hold in the overwhelming joy you wanted to scream to the universe. Continuing down the street, shoulders slightly hunched to the morning breeze, you stopped short when you passed a little boutique, something in the window catching your attention. 

As luck would have it, the owner was just flipping the open sign in the window, and when she saw you looking at the display mannequin, she offered you a small smile and waved you in, as only charming old ladies can. 

~

Your heart was in your throat as you walked briskly toward the park where you were supposed to meet your brother and Diego. You wanted to drag out the distance, afraid that rejection waited for you at the end, that he had decided your whole plan was outrageous and left, maybe for good. But at the same time, you were anxious to get there, both because of the frosty chill in the air, and more importantly, because of the excitement that made you feel like you were about to burst.

Patch kept pace with you easily, her long coat fluttering behind her and a soft smile on her face. Every once in a while she stole a glance over at you, marveling at how beautiful you were in the lilac dress you’d bought, your hair swept back and up by a thousand tiny bobby pins, (on anyone else the look would have been ruined by the black boots laced to your knee, but somehow on you it just added to it) and also pondering whether this was all some elaborate prank. She wouldn’t put it past you and Diego. 

When the gazebo was finally in sight, three silhouettes on its open platform, your feet skidded to a stop. 

“I can’t do this,” you said suddenly, turning to walk away before Eudora caught your arm. 

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” she asked softly, giving you that patented look of concern that made you want to spill every secret and fear you’ve ever held.

“It’s been three weeks,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks and making you grateful you hadn’t taken the time to stop for mascara. “And we just decide this morning to…? The first time we said ‘I love you’ was _yesterday._ This is crazy. He’s crazy.”

“Y/N,” she said, taking you by the shoulders, grounding you with her touch. “It’s alright to be nervous, or scared, or have your doubts. And you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. You get to decide what happens next. So, if you want to walk away, I’ll walk with you. Do you want to?”

You thought for a moment. But any attempt to rationalize or approach the question with logic like you thought you should was drowned out by the sound of laughter, the crinkle of warm brown eyes, the feel of a hand in yours and your heart beating out a rhythm matched to his that seemed to say “I’m home, I’m home.”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t want to run; I want to do this?”

“That sounded like a question. Are you sure?”

You swallowed again, nerves making your tongue feel heavy. “Yeah. Yes. I’m absolutely sure.”

She smiled at you and you couldn’t help answering the expression with one of your own. 

“Good,” she said. “I think we should probably keep moving then, before he has a heart attack waiting.”

You laughed, wrapping her quickly in a hug and murmuring a word of thanks.

~

Diego felt his knees go weak and his stomach do flips as he watched Y/N and Eudora approach up the cracked cobblestones of the park path. She was always beautiful, but now she looked actually angelic in the pale purple dress that trailed down to her calves. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, even though he had been standing around for quite a while now, rings heavy in his pocket, as he talked with her brother and his wife (people he had met only once before, and now were part of the small group there for the most important day of his life) and they went over how the whole event would play out. 

Part of him wished he had been able to track down Klaus, or maybe extended a temporary olive branch to Vanya, or maybe even Luther, just to have someone there. But Y/N was there. And that was really all that mattered, the two of them. And Patch was as much a friend to him as to her, so it was something. A shabby-looking dark haired man walked past his peripheral vision and he turned his head quickly, hoping beyond reason. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his wayward brother and he sighed. 

Eudora and Y/N finally climbed up the steps, and Diego forgot all about his nerves and concerns when the woman of his dreams smiled at him, slipping her hands in his as they faced each other.

“Hi,” he murmured. 

“Hi yourself,” she countered. “Ready?”

“Never readier.”

Daniel cleared his throat and began to speak.

~

“Thank you for being here this morning, as Diego and Y/N enter into this union, a commitment of everlasting love, respect, and partnership. They join together now not as halves of a whole, incomplete without the other, but as equals, each complete and choosing the other as a compliment to themselves. They have seen each other for what they are, and what they are not, and actively decide to accept and cherish in all that entails,” your brother started. 

You shot him a glare, cutting him off before he could launch into a lecture. 

“Knowing my little sister, and the impromptu nature of today, I am prepared with something of a traditional reading, or we can forgo in favor of the more essential elements of the ceremony?”

You and Diego looked at each other. He shrugged. You rolled your eyes. “Skip the reading.”

Daniel moved on, turning to Patch and Amelia and asking, “Do you, as witnesses to this day, support, encourage, and affirm this union?”

They both looked over at the two of you, nearly lost in your own world and smiled. In near unison, they agreed. Several more formalities passed in something of a blur.

“Do you have rings?” Daniel asked, quirking an eyebrow in an expression nearly identical to the one Diego was familiar with from you.

“I do,” he said, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, thrown over the rail behind him to pull out the small blue box. “I just hope I picked good ones.” 

You gasped as he opened up the box, showing you the rings he had picked out that morning. Your hands shook as you took it, looking closer at the detailing. 

“Oh Diego,” you sighed, smiling waterily at him. “They’re perfect.”

Daniel whistled lowly, losing his official mask in favor of being just your brother for a moment. “Damn. If I didn’t know better I’d think these were custom-made.”

Diego shrugged, blushing uncomfortably under the dual praise. “Nope, just got lucky.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good sign then, for the marriage,” Amelia chimed in, beaming at the pair of you. “Which we still need to finish…?”

“Right,” Daniel said. “Where were we? Vows!”

“I, Diego Hargreeves, take you to be my spouse. I promise that from this day forward I will regard you as my equal, my partner, and my closest friend. I will love and cherish you above all others. Our decisions will be together, in consideration of your needs and wishes as well as my own. For better or worse, sickness or health, no matter what we are going through, I will be there at your side, with love and support. Until the end of the world. I love you, so much.” He smiled, flashing you a wink before slipping your ring onto your finger.

You laughed, winking right back before reciting the same promises in turn and slipping the other ring onto his hand, keeping your fingers locked together after.

Daniel discretely swiped a tear from his eye. 

“With these rings and vows exchanged, a promise made before witnesses and a symbol of that bond between you, it is my greatest pleasure, by the power vested in me by the state, to pronounce you as married, joined in spirit and in law.”

Diego grinned, sweeping you into a kiss, holding you tight against him, until three voices around you cleared their throats.

“Breakfast?” Patch asked. “On me, as a gift to the newlyweds?”

~

An hour later, you sat beside each other (everyone else having left to go about their day), people passing by blithely unaware that for the two of you life had just changed, both staring down at your interlocked hands and the bands on your fingers. 

“Did we actually just…?” he asked breathlessly.

You laughed. “You were there Diego. You said the words, same as I did.” 

You hesitated, fearful still that he hadn’t intended it to be real, that it had been a joke or a fantasy you had taken too far.

“It’s not too late to undo it, though,” you explained hurriedly. “I mean it’s a weekend so Daniel won’t file the certificate with the city until at least Monday, so we can ask him to just rip it up and forget it ever happened. Or if he does file it early somehow, annulling this kind of thing is pretty easy since we haven’t mingled assets or anything. I just thought...well I don’t actually know what I thought.” Tears started to well up as you stumbled over yourself in your rush. 

He tilted your chin up with his free hand, kissing you tenderly, as if he could pour every feeling and thought in his heart into the one action. 

“I don’t want to undo it,” he murmured, eyes crinkling with mirth. “I just can’t believe we actually got married in the first place.”

“Well believe it. You’re stuck with me now.” You laughed, kissing the end of his nose. 

“There’s no one else I’d rather.”

Your heart swelled at the confession as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Well, husband, what do you say we go home, spend the rest of the day as newlyweds should?”

He smiled, groaning as he stood and his battered body protested the idea of moving. As you let him tug you to your feet, you felt probably almost as bad as he did, aching from head to toe, the events of the night catching up to you.

“Or maybe we spend it sleeping…” you mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best romances are slow-burn to hyper-speed, right?


	11. Normalcy

A few nights after the wedding, you both went to one of your fences, one who specialized in jewels, to hand off the necklace. 

“This was a bitch to get,” you told the young man. “So make sure it was worth it.”

“Sure thing, dog,” he said with a shrug. “But who’s the guy?”

“My new partner, in crime and in life. It’s a long story.” You gave him a quick flash of your wedding band and a smile.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats to both of you,” he said, holding out his fist for a bump. “I’ll take care of this no problem, and get you a toaster or somethin.”

Laughing, you bid him farewell. After leaving his apartment (one frustratingly larger than your own even though you knew he didn’t work), you explained to Diego that you had known Derek since you were young kids, that he had been one of the ones to help you get a start that wasn’t likely to end in you getting killed. He tried not to be jealous of the man, who clearly knew you so well, who you spoke of so fondly.

You stood on your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, wrapping your arms around his and leading him off toward the next adventure, or more specifically, a taco truck nearby. He smiled, reminded that at the end of the day, it was him you chose, him you loved.

~

You thought it would be weird, adjusting to life as a married couple, but it was seamless. Diego had been spending a lot of his time at your apartment anyway. He didn't give up his "room" at the Fighting Lion, but his belongings slowly trickled their way over until it was the barest of necessities, mostly furniture and the few appliances, left.  
You settled into a routine, one so close to average that you almost couldn’t believe it. Mornings would see you both off to work. He would come to the diner most days for lunch and you would sit together in a corner booth, as likely to be taking a cat nap leaning against each other on the blue vinyl benches as you were to be eating food. You would cook dinner together in the evening, or get take out. Nights were spent doing your own thing or watching tv, cuddling, talking. 

If you had a job you were going to work, you’d tip him off so that he didn’t interfere (or did, just for show, and the fun of your flirty cat-and-mouse game). Sometimes you would go with him if he was going on a patrol or something came across the radio that sounded big.

One Tuesday a month, if he wasn’t in rehab or jail, Klaus would stop by and you’d all play board games or go somewhere if you had the day off. Sundays were your coffee, shopping, and/or movie dates with Patch, and sometimes Diego tagged along.

It was...perfect.

~

When Derek got back to you, you were stunned by the final price tag of the necklace. But you tried to be casual, dropping onto the couch, your legs across Diego’s lap, interrupting his reading.

“So, I heard back from Sandoval,” you said, watching him out of the corner of your eye and pretending to inspect your nails.

“Oh?” Diego asked, raising his eyebrow and closing the novel.

“He was able to sell the necklace to a collector who wasn’t going to ask any questions. It’s not much,” you shrugged, trying to keep your voice more level than you felt, practically vibrating out of your seat in reality, “but I think we can probably do a lot with sixty-seven thousand dollars, don’t you?”

Diego gaped at you. Your face broke out in a grin.

“I know!” you said, answering his look. “It’s amazing. And terrifying. It might have been more than market value since it was a specific collection piece, but still. If the rest of the stuff in that warehouse is anywhere close to the same price tag your father is sitting on or dealing in some _serious_ shit.”

“What now?” he asked, voice oddly strangled.

“Well, first we should figure out how to use the money, but I was thinking, there’s no way ‘D.S. Umbrella’ is operating legally. Not with that kind of goods in there. We could blow the whole thing wide open on him. Or...try for another score. Imagine the kind of difference we could make with that cash flow.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” you sat up, elbows planted on your knees as you leaned toward him. 

“It’s too dangerous, Y/N,” he shook his head. “It’s already risky looking into why we almost got caught, and I...I’m not going to ask you not to pursue that, I know it’s too late. But after you find an answer or hit the end of the road, stop. Don’t go after my father again.”

“But Diego…” you started to protest before it died in your throat.

“He’s a dangerous man, Y/N. And I d-don’t want you to get hurt. Please?”

You looked at his face, the fear hiding behind his eyes, the pleading frown. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t fair, that this was the chance of a lifetime. That if he wanted you to get out of the game, he needed to help you with this one score and then you could, you would. 

“Okay, I won’t, Diego. No second hit, I promise.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hands holding your shoulders like you were his anchor to the world. 

“Thank you.”

“Now, about the money we already have…”

~

After much discussion, you and Diego agreed to divide your ill-gotten gains across three areas: the children’s hospital (a favorite cause of yours), an out-of-state organization that helped unwed or widowed mothers with childcare, and the city-run rehab centers (which Diego admitted later was some probably misguided attempt to help his brother out). You pretended not to notice the way Diego lit up when you discussed the breakdown of funds and how much difference a few extra thousand allocated to one or the other meant. But in your heart, you knew what the expression meant, and were glad he might be coming around to your point of view. 

After distributing your donations, you threw yourself fully into investigating. You were like a dog with a bone, chasing after every possible lead with a fervor that at times scared him. You kept longer hours than usual, without even your small heists or “petty vengeance crimes” to serve as distractions. Some days, he wanted to tell you to give up, that the mystery wasn’t worth solving if it cost him you, if it cost you yourself in the process. He wanted to ask you not to go where he couldn’t follow. And other days, even more precious for how few they were, you were fine, working at the diner, coming home to eat dinner and watch crap television with him like nothing was wrong. He was tired and frustrated and couldn’t wait for the whole mess to be behind you both.

“The break-in going wrong was your fault!” you accused, slamming the door behind you as you entered the apartment one day, but keeping your voice low. “My contact said D.S. Umbrella hired extra security _that week_ and they were specifically told to watch for a masked intruder armed with knives.”

Diego gaped at you, confusion and fury twisting his face in more directions than should have been possible.

“How the hell did your father know that you were planning to rob him, unless you tipped him off?!” you hissed.

“Why would I do that?” he snapped back, standing to loom over you as you got up in his face.

“I don’t know Diego, why would you? Unless you were hoping to get back into his good graces and maybe also put a stop to my thieving once and for all, since you never could on your own. If we got caught, Daddy bails you out, I end up in jail, and everything gets wrapped up in a neat little bow, right?”

“Y/N, don’t be stupid.”

“Oh I’m stupid now? I’ve half a mind to—”

He cut you off with a kiss, tangling his fingers in your hair to cup the back of your head and yanking you closer. On instinct, you responded, pressing aggressively back against him, teeth nipping at his lip. 

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he panted when you broke apart, both your chests heaving.

“But…”

“I am never going to betray you like that, or hurt you or lose you, especially not intentionally. Do you understand me? Never.”

You stared at him, eyes locked, the intensity burning in his threatening to sear you to the bone. And you welcomed the possibility. 

“How am I supposed to believe that when there is no other answer?” you said stubbornly, almost petulantly. 

“Do I have to prove it to you?”

“How could you possibly—” your remark was cut off as his lips descended onto yours once more. 

All of the fire in his eyes seemed to be transferred into his kiss, hungrily driving you back in little steps, set to consume you. Your back pressed against the door, head tilted upward by the hands now tugging at your hair. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as his hips bumped against yours, the hard bulge of his erection rubbing against your clothed core. 

“Diego please,” you whined as he separated from your mouth to suck and nip at the corner of your jaw. 

“What’s a matter sweetheart?” he growled, his stubble scratching against you and the sound of his voice vibrating through you as he trailed down your throat now. 

“I need—” your plea was cut off as he bit down hard on the skin of your clavicle and you yelped. 

Almost immediately, he began to lave his tongue over the spot, soothing the bruise that was already forming, the little circles he was making doing nothing to calm your racing pulse or help you to think. 

“Hm? What’s that sweetheart?”

“You,” you gasped, grinding against him, your soaked panties adding a delicious friction to the motion. “I need you. Now.”

As if you had flipped a switch, Diego kissed you again. As his tongue delved into your mouth, he released his grip on your head and hoisted you up with hands resting on your butt. Stumbling along to the bed, he shifted you, creating another teasing brush of friction that made you moan, so he could brace you with one arm and fumblingly undo the buttons of your shirt.

He shoved the fabric downward until it pooled around your elbows, awkwardly wrenching your arms back from where they gripped, nails digging into his shoulders. Yanking your bra down to expose you further, he pawed roughly at your breast, squeezing and kneading it with calloused fingers, rolling your nipple as it pebbled with exposure to the chill of the room. 

You were caught with the momentary rush of weightlessness before gravity took hold and you were tossed to the bed. 

“Strip,” Diego ordered, voice thick with desire as he tugged his shirt over his head and toed off his boots. 

Your heavy panting and the jingle of his belt buckle as he removed the rest of his clothes were the only sounds in the room. Your head spun and you felt like if your skin was any hotter it would start setting off the building’s sprinklers. It took all the willpower you had not to simply sit and watch as your husband undressed.

The waist of your jeans had barely passed your toes when Diego was on you once more, hands curling around your thighs to flip you over onto your stomach. His weight pressed down on your torso, bare skin on yours doing nothing to soothe the fire within you. 

“Ready baby?” he growled in your ear.

Mouth dry and incapable of forming words, you nodded rapidly, turning to try and catch him in a kiss that he danced back from.

“Good.”

Slowly he pressed into you centimeter by centimeter until he bottomed out, pelvis flush against your ass. Taunting you, he stayed there, unmoving. You whined, pressing back and wriggling to tempt him. Instead he reached around you, arms caging you in and holding you to him, one hand wrapping delicately around your throat, merely a promise of pressure. The other found your already aching clit and pressed down hard with his thumb. You cried out, pleasure shooting through you at the motion, nearly bringing you over the edge right there. 

“Don’t you dare,” he growled in your ear, pausing so that you wondered if he meant that he could feel your body fluttering desperately around him and wanted to prevent you from coming or if there was something more.

“Ever.” He dragged himself out of you and drove in with a single hard thrust to punctuate the word.

“Doubt.” He repeated the motion a little faster, finding the spot within you that made stars dance on your vision.

“That I.” You bit your lip, trying to hold back, to let him get out whatever obvious pent-up energy had led to this.

“Love you.” 

He planted a kiss to the spot where your neck met shoulder as he drove into you again, the feeling of his mouth on you the last straw as your orgasm washed over you in thunderbolt waves. 

Your muscles clenched around him and you moaned, high and keening. His pace increased, setting a harsh rhythm that had you nearly cresting again in no time.

“Yes, oh Diego, baby, baby please, you make me feel so good, don’t stop, yes, yes.” You babbled breathlessly, words mingling with your gasps and cries as he started moving his thumb in small circles, staggering the jolts of stimulation to your clit and the rolls of his hips. 

“Gonna cum for me again sweetheart?” he grunted, sounding equally as breathless.

“Only if you cum with me,” you panted, rocking back against him. “Please baby. I want to feel you.”

His sharp inhale was the only warning you had before he gave a particularly hard thrust and tightened his hand, squeezing just enough around your throat to make the coil in your core snap.

“Oh god,” you cried, every nerve of your body singing in pleasure, a bright bubble of sensation only he was capable of making you feel.

He repeated the action, this time dragging his teeth lightly across your skin as well. 

You screamed his name as you plunged over the precipice of your second orgasm, clenching walls dragging him with you. He whimpered your name as he stilled, seed spurting and coating your insides. A static hum settled into your skin, the air seeming to vibrate with the energy passing between you. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Diego asked softly, pulling out to flop onto the mattress beside you, exhausted and spent but still strangely keyed up. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“What?” you gasped, frowning and rolling onto your side to face him. “No. Fuck, of course not Diego. You could never.”

“But…” he trailed off as you shook your head and shifted so that you hovered over him this time.

“You could never hurt me Diego,” you insisted, cupping his jaw to make sure he was looking at you and smirked down at him. “You love me too much for that to happen.”

He smiled sheepishly up at you, hands finding your waist on instinct. You leaned in, closing the gap between you and kissing him tenderly. He responded by trying to pull you flush against him, running his tongue teasingly over your lip to deepen the kiss. Instead you broke off, laughing.

“I’m going to go take a shower, since you just made me all sweaty and disgusting, and then I will be back because I demand cuddles,” you said, faux-sternly.

“I think you look sexy,” he teased, grabbing playfully at you as you stood on legs still wobbly from the exertion. 

You rolled your eyes. “Because you’re _terrible_ ,” you teased. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes. Don’t move.”

“As you wish.”

~

Later, as you laid together in your tangled sheets, you traced mindless patterns along Diego’s bare chest, deep in thought.

“Earth to Y/N?” he asked, touching your shoulder gently. 

You jumped, startled by it, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” his voice was soft and laced with concern, and you thought you might melt from the sound of it. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you insisted quickly. “I’m just…”

“Still trying to think of some other explanation for how things went wrong?”

“Yeah, and coming up with nothing.” You sighed. “I just don’t get it. And I don’t like not having the answers.”

He frowned, sighing and drawing you closer, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to relax until you figured it out now. 

“Maybe we missed something while we were staking the place out, a traffic camera or security guard who spotted us hanging around. Or did anyone else know what we were doing?”

“No. No one but you and I. I know better than to let the competition or a potential rat get wind of my plans.”

“What about where you got the blueprints from? Could whoever gave them to you have sold you out?”

“Shit,” you breathed, scolding yourself internally for being so stupid. 

Of course that was it. Your contact was an average civil servant, who frankly just seemed to enjoy causing chaos so he was always ready to sell secrets he got from work in city hall, and had gone silent recently. You hadn’t thought much of it; people tended to come and go all the time in your line of work. But maybe he’d decided this was the best chaos he could cause before he went.

“He was expecting _you_ though, not me. How did he figure that out?”

“We haven’t been hiding our relationship,” he shrugged. “And I’d be surprised if my father wasn’t keeping tabs on us, as many of us as he could.”

You chewed your lower lip, frowning and working through the whole thing again in your mind. Was the explanation really that simple?

“Tomorrow, we’ll go pay our suspected snitch a visit,” he offered, “if you have an idea where he might be, and we’ll find out. Together. How does that sound?”

Together. Partners. You and Diego versus everyone else. That was how it was now. That was how it should be, how it always would be. A thrill ran through you at the thought.

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile, shifting closer. “And I’m glad you said tomorrow, because I don’t want to get out of this bed tonight.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling beneath your cheek.

“Me neither,” his fingers trailed over your shoulder. “Shall we get some sleep?”

You turned your head to look up at him, only to find him looking back. 

“We could. If that’s really what you want to do…” you trailed off, biting your lip and gazing at him suggestively. “Or…”

He leaned down, lips slotting against yours as he scooped you up in his arms, rolling you on top of him. His hands traced along your sides and he groaned. 

“This is a much better idea,” you mumbled into the kiss, not caring that you were likely to get no rest tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with side stories, because I wanted to write like 10,000 words of cute domestic shit, but I didn't want this chapter to be unreasonably long: [Moments in Between](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114052/chapters/71469213)
> 
> Please forgive my self-indulgent cheeky reference to Bad Samaritan. I didn't feel like coming up with a new character out of whole-cloth for the Fence.


End file.
